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« 



Helen’s Babies. 

WITH 

Some account of their ways innocent, crafty, angelic, impish, 
witching and repulsive. Also, a partial record of their 
actions during ten days of their existence. 

BY JOHN HABBEBTON. 

• » 


** Helen’s Babies” is famous, and has ^ven its gifted author, fohn Habberion, 
•world-wide celebrity. It stands alone in literature, and is nothing short of a master- 
piece. Sprightly, vigorous and wholes ome throughout, every page sparkles with gems 
of thought and humor. The interest benns with the first sentence and is kept up to 
the last word. It is mainly devoted to the odd sayings and doings of Budge and Tod- 
die, two small boys — imps of mischief, but warm-hearted, loving little beings, who at 
once win the affection of all readers. They nearly torment the life out of their Uncle 
Harry, who comes to take care of them during the te77iporary absence of their papa 
and mamma, demanding frojn him stories, songs. Biblical narrations, pennies, candy, 
frolics and benedictions. Both Toddie and Budge get into all kinds of ludicrous 
scrapes, have fixed notions on the subject of prayers, and some of their devout petitions 
are inexpressibly droll, while everything told ofthe7n is natural in the highest degree. 
In short, ” Helen’s Babies " is one of the most delightful and jolliest books in the world. 
It has pleased thousands, and will please thousands more, for it is simply impossible 
to resist its fascination. Fathers and mothers, young men and young ladies, boys and 
girls, all should read it, laugh over it and profit by it, as Budge and Toddie will 
re7nain in the 7nemory forever, for ’’Helen’s Babies*’ can never be forgotten, ^ 



306 CHESTNUT STREET. 


TZ3 
. H \ 1 3 H 


/ 


copyright: 

T. B. BEXEItSOiT & BBOTHEBS, 

1881. 

OOBYBia-HT, 2C, BOBIira-. 1870. 






Every one knows that there are, in the United States, 
hundreds of thousands of fathers and mothers, each one of 
whom possesses the best children that ever lived. I am, there- 
fore, moved by a sense of the eternal fitness of things to dedi- 
cate this little volume to 



with the reminder that it is considered the proper thing for each 
person, to whom a book is dedicated, to purchase and read a 
copy. 


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S 


HELEN’S BABIES 


D 


The first cause, so far as it can be determined, of the 
existence of this book maj be found in the following 
letter, written by my only married sister, and received 
by me, Harry Burton, salesman of white goods, bachelor, 
aged twenty-eight, and received just as I was trying to 
decide where I should spend a fortnight’s vacation : — 

HtLLCREST, June 15, 1875. 

“ Dear Harry Kemembering that you are always com- 
plaining that you never have a chance to read, and knowing that 
you won’t get it this summer, if you spend your vacation among 
people of your own set, 1 write to ask you to come up here. I 
admit that I am not wholly disinterested in inviting you. The 
truth is, Tom and I are invited to spend a fortnight with my old 
school-mate, Alice Wayne, who, you know, is the dearest girl in 

(5) 


6 


HELENAS BABIES. 


the world, though you clidnH obey me and marry her before 
Frank Wayne appeared. Well, we’re dying to go, for Alice and 
Frank live in splendid style ; but as they haven’t included our 
children in their invitation, and have no children of their own, 
we must leave Budge and Toddie at home. I’ve no doubt they’ll 
be perfectly safe, for my girl is a jewel, and devoted to the chil- 
dren, but I would feel a greal deal easier if there was a man in 
the house. Besides, there’s the silver, and burglars are less 
likely to break into a house where there’s a savage-looking man. 
(Never mind about thanking me for the compliment.) If youHl 
only come up, my mind will be completely at rest. The children 
won’t give you the slightest trouble ; they’re the best children in 
the world— everybody says so. 

“ Tom has plenty of cigars, I know, for the money I should 
have had for a new suit went to pay his cigar-man. He has 
some new claret, too, that he goes into ecstacies over, though I 
can’t tell it from the vilest black ink, except by the color. Our 
horses are in splendid condition, and so is the garden— you see 
I don’t forget your old passion for flowers. And, last and best, 
there never were so many handsome girls at Hillcrest as there 
are among the summer boarders already here ; the girls you 
already are acquainted with here will see that you meet all the 
newer acquisitions. 

“ Reply by telegraph right away. 

“ Of course you’ll say ‘ Yes.’ 

“In great haste, your loving 

“ Sister Helen.” 


HELEN'S BABIES. 


7 


“P. S. You shall have our own chamber ; it catches every 
breeze, and commands the finest views. The children’s room 
communicates witli it ; so, if anything should happen to the 
darlings at night, you’d be sure to hear them.’ 

^^Just the thing ! I ejaculated. Five minutes later 
I had telegraphed Helen my acceptance of her invitation, 
and had mentally selected books enough to busy me 
during a dozen vacations. Without sharing Helen’s 
belief that her boys were the best ones in the w^orld, I 
knew them well enough to feel assured that they would not 
give me any annoyance. There were two of them, since 
Baby Phil died last fall ; Budge, the elder, was five years 
of age, 'and had generally, during n>y flying visits to 
Helen, worn a shy, serious, meditative, noble face, with 
great, pure, penetrating eyes, that made me almost fear 
their stare. Tom declared he was a born philanthropist 
or prophet, and Helen made so free with Miss Muloch’s 
lines as to sing: — 

“Ah, the day that thou goest a wooing, 

Budgie, my boy ! ” 

Toddie had seen but three summers, and was a 
happy little know-nothing, with a head full of tangled 


8 


HELENAS BABIES. 


yellow hair, and a very pretty fancy for finding out 
sunbeams and dancing in them. I had long envied 
Tom his horses, his garden, his house and his location, 
and the idea of controlling them for a fortnight was 
particularly delightful. Tom’s taste in cigars and 
claret I had always respected, while the lady inhab- 
itants of Hill-crest were, according to my memory, 
much like those of every other suburban village — the 
fairest of their sex. 

Three days later I made the hour and a half trip be- 
tween New York and Hillcrest, and hired a hackman 
to drive me over to Tom’s. Half a mile from my 
brother-in-law’s residence, our horses shied violently, 
and the driver, after talking freely to them, turned to 
me and remarked : — 

" That was one of the * Imps.’ ” 

” What was ? ” I asked. 

" That little cuss that scared the bosses. There he 
is, now, holdin’ up that piece of brushwood. ’Twould 
be just like his cheek, now, to ask me to let him ride. 
Here he comes, runnin’. Wonder where t’other is? — 
they most generally travel together. We call ’em the 
Imps, about these parts, because they’re so uncommon 


HELEN'S BABIES, 


9 


likely at mischief. Always skeerin’ bosses, or chasin’ 
cows, or frightenin’ chickens. Nice enough father an* 
mother, too — queer, how young ones do turn out I ” 
As he spoke, the offending youth came panting 
beside our carriage, and in a very dirty sailor-suit, and 
under a broad-brimmed straw hat, with one stocking 
about his ankle, and two shoes averaging about two 
buttons each, I recognized my nephew. Budge I About 
the same time there emerged from the bushes by the 
roadside a smaller boy, in a green gingham dress, a 
ruffle which might once have been white, dirty stock- 
ings, blue slippers worn through at the toes, and an 
old-fashioned straw turban. Thrusting into the dust 
of the road a branch from a bush, and shouting, 
Here’s my grass-cutter 1 ” he ran towards us envel- 
oped in a " pillar of cloud,” which might have served 
the purpose of Israel in Eg 3 q)t. When he paused, and 
the dust had somewhat subsided, I beheld the unmis- 
takable lineaments of the child Toddie I 
" They’re — my nephews,” I gasped. 

” What I ” exclaimed the driver. " By gracious I I 
forgot you were going to Colonel Lawrence’s I I didn't 
tell anything but the truth about ’em, though ; they’re 


10 


HELENAS BABIES, 


smart enough, an’ good enough, as boys go ; but they’ll 
never die of the complaint that children has in Sunday- 
school books.” 

” Budge,” said I, with all the sternness I could com- 
mand, ” do you know me ? ” 

The searching eyes of the embryo prophet and 
philanthropist scanned me for a moment, then their 
owner replied ; — 

"Yes; you’re Uncle Harry. Did you bring us 
anything ? ” 

** Bring us anything?” echoed Toddie. 

"I wish I could have brought you some big whip- 
pings,” said I, with great severity of manner, "for 
behaving so badly. Get into this carriage.” 

" Come on. Tod,” shouted Budge, although Toddie’s 
farther ear was not a yard from Budge’s mouth. 
" Uncle Harry’s going to take us riding I ” 

" Going to take us riding ! ” echoed Toddie, with the 
air of one in a reverie ; both the echo and the reverie I 
soon learned were characteristics of Toddie. 

As they clambered into the carriage I noticed that 
each one carried a very dirty towel, knotted in the 
centre into what is known as a slip-noose knot, drawn 


HELENA'S BABIES, 


11 


very tight. After some moments of disgusted contem* 
plation of these rags, without being in the least able to 
comprehend their purpose, I asked Budge what those 
towels were for. 

** They're not towels — they're dollies,” promptly 
answered my nephew. 

Goodness I ” I exclaimed. ” I should think your 
mother could buy you respectable dolls, and not let 
you appear in public with those loathsome rags.” 

**We don't like buyed dollies,” explained Budge. 
** These dollies is lovely; mine's name is Mary, an' 
Toddie's is Marfa.” 

Marfa ? ” I queried. 

Yes ; don't you know about 

** Marfa and Mary’s jus’ gone along 
To ring dem charmin’ bells, 

that them Jubilees sings about ? ” 

” Oh, Martha, you mean ? ” 

”Yes, Marfa — that's what I say. Toddie's dolly's 
got brown eyes, an' my dolly's got blue eyes.” 

want to shee yours watch,” remarked Toddie, 
snatching at my chain, and rolling into my lap. 


12 


Helen's babies. 


” 0 h — 00 — ee, so do I,” shouted Budge, hastening 
to occupy one knee, and in transitu wiping his shoes 
on my trousers and the skirts of my coat. Each imp 
put an arm about me to steady himself, as I produced 
my three-hundred-dollar time-keeper, and showed them 
the dial. 

” I want to see the wheels go roimd,” said Budge. 

” Want to shee wheels go wound,” echoed Toddie. 

” No ; I can’t open my watch where there’s so much 
dust,” I said. 

” What for ? ” inquired Budge. 

”Want to shee the wheels go wound,” repeated 
Toddie. 

”The dust gets inside the watch and spoils it,” I 
explained. 

** Want to shee the wheels go wound,” said Toddie, 
once more. 

”I tell you I can’t, Toddie,” said I, with considerable 
asperity. ** Dust spoils watches.” 

The innocent gray eyes looked up wonderingly, the 
dirty, but pretty lips parted slightly, and Toddie mur- 
mured : — 


” Want to shee the wheels go wound.” 


HELEN'S BABIES. 


13 


I abruptly closed my watch, and put it into my 
pocket. Instantly Toddie’s lower lip commenced to 
turn outward, and continued to do so until I seriously 
feared the bony portion of his chin would be exposed to 
view. Then his lower jaw dropped, and he cried : — 

" Ah — h — h — h — h — h — h — want — to — shee 
— the wheels — go wou — oundJ' 

” Charles” (Charles is his baptismal name), — • 
** Charles,” I exclaimed, with some angei , ”stop that 
noise this instant I Do you hear me ? ” 

” Yes — 00 — 00 — 00 — ahoo — ahoo.” 

” Then stop it.” 

Wants to shee- — ” 

**Toddie, IVe got some candy in my trunk, but 1 
won’t give you a bit if you don’t stop that infernal 
noise.” 

” Well, I wants to shee wheels go wound. Ah — ah 
_h — h — h — hi” 

^'Toddie, dear, don’t cry so. Here’s some ladies 
coming in a carriage ; you wouldn’t let them see you 
crying, would you? You shall see the wheels go 
round as soon as we get home.” 


u 


HELENAS BABIES, 


A carriage containing a couple of ladies was rapidly 
approaching, as Toddie again raised his voice. 

Ah — h — h — wants to shee wheels — ” 

Madly I snatched my watch from my pocket, opened 
the case, and exposed the works to view. The other 
carriage was meeting ours, and I dropped my head to 
avoid meeting the glance of the unknown occupants, for 
my few moments of contact with my dreadful nephews 
had made me feel inexpressibly unneat. Suddenly the 
carriage with the ladies stopped. I heard my own 
name spoken, and, raising my head quickly (encounter- 
ing Budgie’s bullet head en route, to the serious dis- 
arrangement of my hat) , I looked into the other carriage. 
There, erect, fresh, neat, composed, bright-eyed, fair- 
faced, smiling and observant, — she would have been all 
this, even if the angel of the resurrection had just 
sounded his dreadful trump, — sat Miss Alice May ton, 
a lady who, for about a year, I had been adoring from 
afar. 

” When did you arrive, Mr. Burton ? ” she asked, ” and 
how long have you been officiating as child’s companion ? 
You’re certainly a happy-looking trio — so unconven- 
tional. 1 hate to see children all dressed up and stiff 


Helen's babies. 


15 


as little manikins, when they go out to ride. And you 
look as if you’d been having such a good time with 
them.” 

"I — I assure you, Miss Mayton,” said I, ” that my 
experience has been the exact reverse of a pleasant one. 
If King Herod were yet alive I’d volunteer as an ex- 
ecutioner, and engage to deliver two interesting corpses 
at a moment’s notice.” 

You dreadful wretch I ” exclaimed the lady. "Mother, 
let me make you acquainted with Mr. Burton, — Helen 
Lawrence’s brother. How is your sister, Mr. Burton ? ” 

"I don’t know,” I replied; "she has gone with 
her husband on a fortnight’s visit to Captain and Mrs. 
Wayne, and I’ve been silly enough to promise to have 
an eye to the place while they’re away.” 

" Why, how delightful I ” exclaimed Miss Mayton. 
Such horses I Such flowers I Such a cook I ” 

"And such children,” said I, glaring suggestively 
at the imps, and rescuing from Toddie a handkerchief 
which he had extracted from my pocket, and was wav- 
ing to the breeze. 

" Why, they’re the best children in the world. 
Helen told me so the first time I met her this season. 


16 


Helen's babies. 


Children will be children, you know. We had three 
little cousins with us last summer, and Em sure they 
made me look years older than I really am.” 

" How young you must be, then. Miss Mayton I ” said 
I. I suppose I looked at her as if I meant what 1 
said, for, although she inclined her head and said, 
” Oh, thank you,” she didn’t seem to turn my compli- 
ment off in her usual invulnerable style. Nothing 
happening in the course of conversation ever discom- 
posed Alice Mayton for more than a hundred seconds, 
however, so she soon recovered her usual expression 
and self-command, as her next remark fully indicated. 

" I believe you arranged the floral decorations at the 
St. Zephaniah’s Fair, last winter, Mr. Burton ? ’Twas 
the most tasteful display of the season. I don’t wish 
to give any hints, but at Mrs. Clarkson’s, where we’re 
boarding, there’s not a flower in the whole garden. 
I break the Tenth Commandment dreadfully every 
time I pass Col. Lawrence’s garden. Good-by, Mr. 
Burton.” 

"Ah, thank you; I shall be delighted. Good-by.” 

"Of course you’ll call,” said Miss Mayton, as her 


HELENAS BABIES. 


17 


carriage started, — dreadfully stupid here — no 
men except on Sundays.” 

I bowed assent. In the contemplation of all the shy 
possibilities which my short chat with Miss Mayton 
had suggested, I had quite forgotten my dusty clothing 
and the two living causes thereof. While in IVIiss 
Mayton’s presence the imps had preserved perfect 
silence, but now their tongues were loosened. 

Uncle Harry,” said Budge, ** do you know how to 
make whistles ? ” 

"Ucken Ilawwy,” murmured Toddie, ^does you 
love dat lady ? ” 

"No, Toddie, of course not.” 

" Then you's baddy man, an^ de Lord won’t let you 
go to heaven if you don’t love peoples.” 

"Yes, Budge,” I answered hastily, "I do knowhow 
to make whistles, and you shall have one.” 

"Lord don’t like mans what don’t love peoples,” 
reiterated Toddie. 

" All right, Toddie,” said I. " I’ll see if I can’t 
please the Lord some way. Driver, whip up, won’t 
you ? I’m in a hurry to turn these youngsters over to 

the gild, and ask her to drop them into the bath-tub.” 

2 


18 


HELEN'S BABIES, 


I found Helen had made every possible arrange- 
ment for my comfort. Her room commanded exquisite 
views of mountain-slope and valley, and even the fact 
that the imps* bedroom adjoined mine gave me com- 
fort, for I thought of the pleasure of contemplating 
them while they were asleep, and beyond the power of 
tormenting their deluded uncle. 

At the supper-table Budge and Toddie appeared 
cleanly clothed and in their rightful faces. Budge 
seated himself at the table; Toddie pushed back his 
high-chair, climbed into it, and shouted : — 

”Put my legs under ze tabo.” 

Kightfully construing this remark as a request to be 
moved to the table, I fulfilled his desire. The girl 
poured tea for me and milk for the children, and re- 
tired; and then I remembered, to my dismay, that 
Helen never had a servant in the dining-room, except 
upon grand occasions, her idea being that servants re- 
tail to their friends the cream of the private conversa- 
tion of the family circle. In principle I agreed with 
her, but the penalty of the practical application, with 
these two little cormorants on my hands, was greater 
suffering than any I had ever been called upon to en- 


HELENAS BABIES, 


19 


dure for principle’s sake ; but there was no help for it. 
I resignedly rapped on the table, bowed my head, said. 
For what we are about to receive, the Lord make us 
thankful,” and asked Budge whether he ate bread or 
biscuit. 

" Why, we aint asked no blessin’ yet,” said he. 

”Yes, I did. Budge,” said I. "Didn’t you hear 
me?” 

" Do you mean what you said just now ? ” 

"Yes.” 

" Oh, I don’t think that was no blessin’ at all. Papa 
never says that kind of a blessin’.” 

" What does papa say, may I ask ? ” I inquired, with 
becoming meekness. 

" Why, papa says, * Our Father, we thank thee for 
this food ; mercifully remember with us all the hungry 
and needy to-day, for Christ’s sake, Amen.’ That’s 
what he says.” 

It means the same thing. Budge.” 

"/ don’t think it does ; and Toddie didn’t have no 
time to say his blessin’. I don’t think the Lord’ll Uke 
it if you do it that way.” 


20 


HELENAS BABIES, 


*'Yes, he will, old boy; he knows what people 
mean.” 

Well, how can he tell what Toddle means if Tod- 
dle can’t say anything ? ” 

” Wantsh to shay my blessin’,” whined Toddie. 

It was enough; my single encounter with Toddie 
had taught me to respect the young gentleman’s force 
of character. So again I bowed my head, and re- 
peated what Budge has reported as " papa’s blessin’,” 
Budge kindly prompting me where my memory failed- 
The moment I began, Toddie commenced to jabber 
rapidly and aloud, and the instant the ”Amen” was 
pronounced he raised his head and remarked with evi- 
dent satisfaction : — 

"I shed my blessin’ two timesh.”’ 

And Budge said gravely : — 

^^JVbw I guess we’re all right.” 

The supper was an exquisite one, but the appetites 
of those dreadful children effectually prevented my 
enjoying the repast. I hastily retired, called the girl, 
and instructed her to see that the childi’en had enough 
to eat, and were put to bed immediately after ; then I 
lit a cigar and strolled into the garden. The roses 


HBLSiN^S BABIES, 


21 


were just in bloom, the air was full of the peifunio of 
honeysuckles, the rhododendrons had not disappeared, 
while I saw promise of the early unfolding of many 
other pet flowers of mine. I confess that I took a 
careful survey of the garden to see how fine a bouquet 
1 might make for IVIiss Mayton, and was so abundantly 
satisfied with the material before me that I longed to 
begin the work at once, but that it would seem too 
hasty for true gentility. So I paced the paths, my 
hands behind my back, and my face well hidden by 
fragrant clouds of smoke, and went into wondering 
and reveries. I wondered if there was any sense in 
the language of flowers, of which I had occasionally 
seen mention made by silly writers; I wished I had 
learned it if it had any meaning ; I wondered if Miss 
Mayton understood it. At any rate, I fancied I could 
arrange flowers to the taste of any lady whose face I 
had ever seen ; and for Alice Mayton I would make 
something so superb that her face could not help light- 
ing up when she beheld it. I imagined just how her 
bluish-gray eyes would brighten, her cheeks would 
redden, — not with sentiment, not a bit of it ; but with 
genuine pleasure, — how her strong lips would part 


22 


HELENA'S BABIES, 


slightly and disclose sweet lines not displayed when 
she held her features well in hand. I — I, a clear- 
headed, driving, successful salesman of white goods — 
actually wished I might be divested of all nineteenth- 
century abilities and characteristics, and be one of those 
fairies that only silly girls and crazy poets think of, 
and might, unseen, behold the meeting of my flowers 
with this highly cultivated specimen of the only sort of 
flowers our cities produce. What flower did she 
most resemble? A lily? — no; too — not exactly too 
bold, but too — too, well, I couldn’t think of the word, 
but clearly it wasn’t bold. A rose I Certainly, not 
like those glorious but blazing remontants, nor yet like 
the shy, delicate, ethereal tea-roses with their tender 
suggestions of color. Like this perfect Gloire de 
Dijon, perhaps ; strong, vigorous, self-asserting, among 
its more delicate sisterhood ; yet shapely, perfect in 
outline and development, exquisite, enchanting in its 
never fully-analyzed tints, yet compelling the admira- 
tion of every one, and recalling its admirers again and 
again by the unspoken appeal of its own perfection — 
its unvarying radiance. 

**Ah~h — h — h — ee- -ee — ee — ee — ee — oo — 


HELEN'S BABIES. 


23 


oo — 00 — 00 ” came from the window over my head. 
Then came a shout of — " Uncle Harry I ” in a voice 
I recognized as that of Budge. I made no reply : there 
are moments when the soul is full of utterances unfit to 
be heard by childish ears. " Uncle Har-my / ” repeated 
Budge. Then I heard a window-blind open, and Budge, 
exclaiming : — 

” Uncle Harry, we want you to come and tell us 
stories.” 

I turned my eyes upward quickly, and was about to 
send a savage negative in the same direction, when I 
saw in the window a face unknown and yet remembered. 
Could those great, wistful eyes, that angelic mouth, 
that spiritual expression, belong to my nephew Budge ? 
Yes, it must be — certainly that super-celestial nose 
and those enormous ears never belonged to any one 
else. I turned abruptly, and entered the house, and 
was received at the head of the stairway by two little 
figures in white, the larger of which remarked : — 

We want you to tell us stories — papa always does 
nights.” 

” Very well, jump into bed — what kind of stories do 
you like ? ” 


24 


belen'^s babieb. 


”0h, ’bout Jonah,” said Bud^e. 

*^’Bout Jonah,” echoed Toddie. 

’’Well, Jonah was out in the sun one day, and a 
gourd-vine grew up all of a sudden, and made it nice 
and shady for him, and then it all faded as quick as it 
came.” 

A dead silence prevailed for a moment, and then 
Budge indignantly remarked : — 

’’That aint Jonah a bit — /know ’bout Jonah.” 

” Oh, you do, do you ? ” said I. ” Then maybe you’ll 
be so good as to enlighten me ? ” 

”Huh?” 

”If you know about Jonah, tell me the story; Fd 
really enjoy listening to it.” 

’’Well,” said Budge, ” once upon a time the Lord 
told Jonah to go to Nineveh and tell the people they 
was all bad. But Jonah didn’t want to go, so he went 
on a boat that was going to Joppa. And then there 
was a big storm, an’ it rained an’ blowed and the big 
waves went as high as a house. An’ the sailors thought 
there must be somebody on the boat that the Lord 
didn’t like. An’ Jonah said he guessed he was the 
man. So they picked him up and froed him in the ocean, 


Helen's babies* 


25 


au’ I don’t think it was well for ’em to do that after 
Jonah told the troof. An’ a big whale was cornin’ 
along, an’ he was awful hungry, cos the little fishes 
what he likes to eat all went down to the bottom of 
the ocean when it began to storm, and whales can’t gO' 
to the bottom of the ocean, cos they have to come up to 
breeve, an’ little fishes don’t. An’ Jonah found ’twas 
all dark inside the whale, and there wasn’t any fire 
there, an’ it was all wet, an’ he couldn’t take off his 
clothes to dry, cos there wasn’t no place to hang ’em, an’ 
there wasn’t no windows to look out of, nor nothin’ to 
eat, nor nothin’ nor nothin’ nor nothin’. So he asked 
the Lord to let him out, an’ the Lord was sorry for 
him, an’ he made the whale go up close to the land, an’ 
Jonah jumped right out of his mouth, an’ wasn't he 
glad? An’ then he went to Nineveh, an’ done what 
the Lord told him to, and he ought to have done it in 
the first place if he had known what was good for 
him.” 

"Done first payshe, know what’s dood for him,” 
asserted Toddie, in support of his brother’s assertion. 

" Tell us ’nudder story.” 

" Oh, no, sing us a song,” suggested Budge. 


26 


HELENAS BABIES, 


” Shing us shong,” echoed Toddie. 

I searched my mind for a song, but the only one 
which came promptly was ” M’ Appari,” several bars of 
which I gave my juvenile audience, when Budge inter- 
rupted me, saying : — 

” I don’t think that’s a very good song.” 

”my not. Budge?” 

^^Cos I don’t. I don’t know a word what you re 
talking ’bout.” 

" Shing ’bout ' Glory, glory, hallelulyah,’ ” suggested 
Toddie, and I meekly obeyed. The old air has a won- 
derful influence over me. I heard it in western camp- 
meetings and negro-cabins when I was a boy ; I saw 
the 2 2d Massachusetts march down Broadway, singing 
the same air during the rush to the front dui’ing the 
early days of the war ; I have heard it sung by warrior 
tongues in nearly every Southern State ; I heard it 
roared by three hundred good old Hunker Democrats 
as they escorted New York’s first colored regiment to 
their place of embarkation; my old brigade sang it 
ftly, but with a swing that was terrible in its earnest- 
ness, as they lay behind their stacks of arms just be- 
fore going to action ; I have heard it played over the 


HELENAS BABIES. 


27 


grave of many a dead comrade ; the semi-mutinous 
— th cavalry became peaceful and patriotic again as 
their band-master played the old air after having asked 
permission to try Ais hand on them ; it is the same that 
burst forth spontaneously in our barracks, on that glo- 
rious morning when we learned that the war was over, 
and it was sung, with words adapted to the occasion, 
by some good rebel friends of mine, on our first social 
meeting after the war. All these recollections came 
hurrying into my mind as I sang, and probably excited 
me beyond my knowledge, for Budge suddenly re- 
marked : — 

Don’t sing that all day. Uncle Harry ; you sing so 
loud, it hurts my head.” 

” Beg your pardon. Budge,” said I. ” Good-night.” 

"Why, Uncle Harry, are you going? You didn’t 
hear us say our prayers, — papa always does.” 

" Oh I Well, go ahead.” 

" You must say yours first,” said Budge ; " that’s the 
way papa does.” 

" Very well,” said I, and I repeated St. Chrysostom’s 
prayer, from the Episcopal service. I had nardly said 
” Amen,” when Budge remarked : — 


28 


BELBN*S BABIES. 


” My papa don’t say any of them things at all ; I 
don’t think that’s a very good prayer.” 

Well, you say a good prayer, Budge.” 

"All right.” Budge shut his eyes, dropped his 
voice to the most perfect tone of supplication, while 
his face seemed fit for a sleeping angel; then he 
said : — 

" Dear Lord, we thank you for lettin’ us have a good 
time to-day, an’ we hope all the little boys everywhere 
have had good times too. We pray you to take care 
of us an’ everybody else to-night, an’ don’t let ’em 
have any trouble. Oh, yes, an’ Uncle Harry’s got some 
candy in his trunk, cos he said so in the carriage, — we 
thank you for lettin’ Uncle Harry come to see us, an’ 
we hope he’s got lots of candy — lots an’ piles. An’ 
we pray you to take good care of all the poor little 
boys and girls that haven’t got any papas an’ mammas 
an’ Uncle Harry s an’ candy an’ beds to sleep in. An’ 
take us all to Heaven when we die, for Christ’s sake. 
Amen. Now give us the candy. Uncle Harry.” 

" Hush, Budge ; don’t Toddie say any prayers ? ” 

" Oh yes ; go on, Tod.” 

Toddie closed his eyes, wriggled, twisted, breathed 


HELEN'S BABIES, 


29 


hartl and quick, acting generally as if prayers were 
principally a matter of physical exertion. At last he 
began : — 

" Dee Lord, not make me sho bad, an* besh mamma, 
dll* papa, an’ Budgie, and doppity,* an* both boggies,f 
an* all good people in dish house, and everybody else, 
an* my dolly. A — a — amen I ** 

"Now give us the candy,** said Budge, with the 
usual echo from Toddie. 

I hastily extracted the candy from my trunk, gave 
some to each boy, the recipients fairly shrieking with 
delight, and once more said good-night. 

"Oh, you didn’t give us any pennies,” said Budge. 
" Papa give us some to put in our banks, every nights.” 

" Well, I haven’t got any now — wait until to- 
morrow.” 

"Then we want drinks.” 

" I’ll let Maggie bring you drink.” 

"Want my dolly,” murmured Toddie. 

I found the knotted towels, took the dirty things 
ap gingerly and threw them upon the bed. 

" Now want to shee wheels go wound,” said Toddie. 


* Grandfather. 


f Grandmothers. 


so 


Helen's babies. 


I hurried out of the room and slammed the door. I 
looked at my watch — it was half-past eight ; I had 
spent an hour and a half with those dreadful children. 
They were funny, to be sure — I found myself laughing 
in spite of my indignation. Still, if they were to 
monopolize my time as they had already done, when 
was I to do my reading? Taking Fiske’s Cosmic 
Philosophy” from my trunk I descended to the back 
parlor, lit a cigar and a student-lamp,^ and began to 
read. I had not fairly commenced when I heard a 
patter of small feet, and saw my elder nephew before 
me. There was sorrowful protestation in every line of 
his countenance, as he exclaimed : — 

” You didn’t say ” Good-by ” nor ” God bless y ou ” 
nor anything.” 

« Oh — good-by.” 

" Good-by.” 

” God bless you.” 

^ God bless you.” 

Budge seemed waiting for something else. A.t las* 
he said; — 

**Papa says, *God bless everybody.’” 

Well, God bless everybody.” 


HELENAS BABIES* 


31 


God bless everybody,” responded Budge and turned 
silently and went upstairs. 

” Bless your tormenting honest little heart,” I said to 
myself ; ” if men trusted God as you do your papa, how 
little business there’d be for preachers to do.” 

The night was a perfect one. The pure, fresh air, 
the perfume of the flowers, the music of the insect choir 
in the trees and shrubbery — the very season itself 
seemed to forbid my reading philosophy, so I laid Fiske 
aside, delighted myself with a few rare bits from Paul 
Hayne’s new volume of poems, read a few chapters of 
" One Summer,” and finally sauntered off to bed. My 
nephews were slumbering sweetly ; it seemed impossible 
that the pure, exquisite, angelic faces before me belonged 
to my tormentors of a few hours before. As I lay on 
my couch I could see the dark shadow and rugged 
crest of the mountain ; above it, the silver stars against 
the blue, and below it the rival lights of the fire-flies 
against the dark background formed by the mountain 
itself. No rumbling of wheels tormented me, nor any 
of the thousand noises that fill city air with the spirit of 
unrest, and I fell into a wonder almost indignant that 


82 


HELEN'S BABIES. 


Beusible, comfort-loving beings could live in horrible 
New York, while such delightful rural homes were so 
near at hand. Then Alice May ton came into my mind, 
and then a customer; later, stars and trademarks, and 
bouquets, and dirty nephews, and fire-flies and bad 
accounts, and railway tickets, and candy and Herbert 
Spencer, mixed themselves confusingly in my mind. 
Then a vision of a proud angel, in the most fashionable 
attire and a modem carriage, came and banished them 
all by its perfect radiance, and I was sinking in the 
most blissful unconsciousness — 

” Ah — h — h — h- — h — h — oo — oo — oo — oo — 
ee — ee — ee — ” 

«Sh— h — hl”lhissed. 

The warning was heeded, and I soon relapsed into 
oblivion. 

” Ah — h — h — h — 00 — oo — ee — ee — ee — eh 
— ee.” 

” Toddie, do you want uncle to whip you?” 

•^No.” 

” Then lie still.” 

”Well, Ize lost my dolly, an’ I tant find her any- 
where.” 


Well, ril find her for you in the morning.” 

'*Oo — oo — ee — I wants my dolly.” 

Well, I tell you I’ll find her for you in the morning.” 

I want her now — oo — oo — ” 

" You can’t have her now, so you can go to sleep.” 

Oh — 00 — 00 — 00 — ee — ” 

Springing madly to my feet, I started for the 
offender’s room. I encountered a door ajar by the 
way, my forehead being first to discover it. I ground 
my teeth, lit a candle, and said something — no matter 
what. 

^'Oh, you said a bad swear!” ejaculated Toddie; 
"you won’t go to heaven when you die.” 

" Neither will you, if you howl like a little demon 
all night. Are you going to be quiet, now?” 

" Ycsh, but I wants my dolly. 

"/ don’t know where your dolly is — do you sup- 
pose I’m going to search this entire house for that 
confounded dolly?” 

" ^ Taint ’founded. I wants my dolly.” 

" 1 don’t know where it is ; you don’t think I stole 
yoiii dolly, do you?” 

** Woli, I wants it, in de bed wif me.” 

3 . 


HELEN'S BABIES. 


94 

** Charles,” said I, when you arise in the morning, 
I hope your doll will be found. At present, however, 
you must be resigned and go to sleep. I’ll cover yoU 
up nicely ; ” here I began to rearrange the bed-cloth- 
ing, when the fateful dolly, source of all my woes, 
tumbled out of them. Toddie clutched it, his whole 
face lighting up with affectionate delight, and he 
screamed : — 

Oh, dare is my dee dolly : turn to your own papa, 
dolly, an’ I’ll love you.” 

And that ridiculous child was so completely satisfied 
by his outlay of affection, that my own indignation gave 
place to genuine artistic pleasure. One can tire of even 
beautiful pictures, though, when he is not fully awake, 
and is holding a candle in a draught of air ; so I cov- 
ered my nephews and returned to my own room, where 
I mused upon the contradictoriness of childhood until 
I fell asleep. 

In the morning I was awakened very early by the 
light streaming in the window, the blinds of which I 
had left open the night before. The air was alive 
with bird-songs, and the eastern sky was flushing with 
tints which no painter’s canvas ever caught. But 


HELENAS BABIES, 


35 


ante-sunrise skies and songs are not fit subjects for 
the continued contemplation of men who read until 
midnight; so I hastily closed the blinds, drew the 
shade, dropped the curtains and lay doAvn again, 
dreamily thanking Heaven that I was to fall asleep to 
such exquisite music. I am sure that I mentally for- 
gave all my enemies as I dropped off into a most 
delicious doze, but the sudden realization that a light 
hand was passing over my cheek roused me to savage 
anger in an instant. I sprang up, and saw Budge 
shrink timidly away from my bedside. 

was only a-lovin^ you, cos you was good, and 
brought us candy. Papa lets us love him whenever 
we want to — every morning he does.” 

”As early as this?” demanded I. 

” Yes, just as soon as we can see, if we want to.” 

Poor Tom I never could comprehend why, with a 
good wife, a comfortable income, and a clear con- 
science, he need always look thin and worn — worse 
than he ever did in Virginia woods or Louisiana 
SAvamps. But now I knew all. And yet, what could 
one do? That child’s eyes and voice, and his expres- 
sion, which exceeded in sweetness that of any of the 


86 


HELENAS BABIEF. 


angels I had ever imagined, — that child could coax a 
man to do more self-forgetting deeds than the shorten- 
ing of his precious sleeping-hours amounted to. In 
fact, he was fast divesting, me of my rightful sleepi- 
ness, so I kissed him and said : — 

"Run to bed, now, dear old fellow, and let uncle go 
to sleep again. After breakfast I’ll make you a whistle.” 

"Oh, will you?” The angel turned into a boy at 
once. 

"Yes ; now run along.” 

" A loud whistle — a real loud one ? ” 

"Yes, but not if you don’t go right back to bed.” 
The sound of little footsteps receded as I turned 
over and closed my eyes. Speedily the bird-song 
seemed to grow fainter ; my thoughts dropped to 
pieces ; I seemed to be floating on fleecy clouds, in 
company with hundreds of cherubs with Budge’s fea- 
tures and night-drawers — 

" Uncle Harry I ” 

May the Lord forget the prayer I put up just then I 
"Uncle Harry I” 

"I'll discii)line you, my fine little boy,” thought I. 
"Perhaps, if I let you shriek your abominable littk 


HELEN'" 8 BABIES. 


37 


tliroat hoarse, you’ll learn better than to torment your 
uncle, that was just getting ready to love you dearly.” 

" Uncle liar — ray / ” 

"Howl away, you little imp,” thought I. "You’ve 
got me wide awake, and your lungs may suffer for it.” 
Suddenly I heard, although in sleepy tones, and with 
a lazy drawl, some words which appalled me. The 
murmurer was Toddie : — 

" Want — shee — wheels — go — wound.” 

"Budge I” I shouted, in the desperation of my dread 
lest Toddie, too, might wake up, "what do you 
want?” 

" Uncle Harry I ” 

"AYIIATI” 

"Uncle Harry, what kind of wood are you going to 
make the whistle out of?” 

" I won’t make any at all — I’ll cut a big stick and 
give you a sound whipping with it, for not keeping 
quiet, aa I told you to.” 

"Why, Uncle Harry, papa don’t whip us with sticks 
- - he spanks us.” 

Heavens I Papa! papa I papa I Was I never to 
have done with this eternal quotation of "papa”? 


38 


HELENAS BABIES* 


I was hornfied to find myself gradually conceiving a dire 
hatred of my excellent brother-in-law. One thing was 
certain, at any rate : sleep was no longer possible ; so 
I hastily dressed, and went into the garden. Among 
the beauty and the fragrance of the flowers, and in 
the delicious morning air, I succeeded in regaining my 
temper, and was delighted, on answering the break- 
fast-bell, two hours later, to have Budge accost me 
with : — 

”Why, Uncle Harry, where was you? We looked 
all over the house for you, and couldn’t find a speck of 
you.” 

The breakfast was an excellent one. I afterward 
learned that Helen, dear old girl, had herself prepared a 
bill of fare for every meal I should take in the house. 
As the table talk of myself and nephews was not such 
as could do harm by being repeated, I requested Mag- 
gie, the servant, to wait upon the children, and I 
accompanied my request with a small treasury note. 
Relieved, thus, of all responsibility for the dreadful 
ap])etites of my nephews, I did full justice to the repast, 
and even regarded with some interest and amusement 
the industry of Budge and Toddie with their tiny forks 


HELENAS BABIES. 


89 


and spoons. They ate rapidly for a while, but soon 
their appetites weakened and their tongues were un- 
loosed. 

"Ocken Hawwy,” remarked Toddie, " daysh an awfoo 
fimny chunt up ’tairs — awfoo big chunt. I show it 
you after brepspup.” 

Toddie’s a silly little boy,” said Budge ; ” he always 
says brepspup for brekbux.”* 

” Oh I What does he mean by chunt. Budge ? ” 

”I guess he means trunk,” replied my oldest nephew . 
Kecollections of my childish delight in rummaging ar 
old trunk — it seems a century ago that I did it — 
caused me to smile S3mipathetically at Toddie, to his 
apparent great delight. How delightful it is to strike 
a sympathetic chord in child-nature, thought I ; how 
quickly the infant eye comprehends the look which pre- 
cedes the verbal expression of an idea I Dear Toddie I 
for years we might sit at one table, careless of each 
other’s words, but the casual mention of one of thy 
delights has suddenly brought our souls into that 
sweetest of all human communions- — that one which 
doubtless bound the Master himself to that apostle 


* Breakfast. 


40 


SELEN^S BABIES. 


who was otherwise apparently the weakest among the 
chosen twelve. "An awfoo funny chunt” seemed to 
annihilate suddenly all differences of age, condition 
and experience between the wee boy and myself, and — 
A direful thought struck me. I dashed upstairs and 
into my room. Yes, he did mean my trunk. I could 
see nothing funny about it — quite the contrary The 
bond of sympathy between my nephew and myself was 
suddenly broken. Looking at the matter from the 
comparative distance which a few wrecks have placed 
between that day and this, I can see that I was unable 
to consider the scene before me with a calm and un- 
prejudiced mind. lam now satisfied* that the sudden 
birth and hasty decease of my sympathy with Toddie 
were strildng instances of human inconsistency. My 
soul had gone out to his because he loved to rummage 
in trunks, and because I imagined he loved to see the 
monument of incongruous material which resulted from 
such an operation ; the scene before me showed cleai ly 
that I had rightly divined my nephew’s nature. And 
yet my selfish instincts hastened to obscure my soul’s 
vision, and to prevent that Joy which should ensue when 
" Faith is lost in full fruition.” 


HELENAS BABIES, 


41 


My trunk had contained nearly everything, for while 
a campaigner I had learned to reduce packing to an 
exact science. Now, had there been an atom of pride in 
my composition I might have glorified myself, for it cei- 
ttiinly seemed as if the heap upon the floor could never 
have come out of a single trunk. Clearly, Toddie was 
more of a general connoisseur than an amateur in pack- 
ing. The method of his work I quickly discerned, and 
the discovery threw some light upon the size of the heap 
in front of my trunk. A dress-hat and its case, when 
their natural relationship is dissolved, occupy nearly 
twice as much space as before, even if the former 
contains a blacking-box not usually kept in it, and 
the latter contains a few cigars soaking in bay rum. 
The same might be said of a portable dressing-case and 
its contents, bought for me in Vienna by a brother ex- 
soldier, and designed by an old continental campaigner 
to be perfection itself. The straps which prevented 
the cover from falling entirely back had been cut, 
broken or parted in some way, and in its hollow lay my 
dress-coat, tightly rolled up. Snatching it up with a 
violent exclamation, and unrolling it, there dropped 


(2 


HELENAS BABIES. 


from it — one of those infernal dolls. At the same 
time a howl was sounded from the doorway. 

" You tookted my dolly out of her cradle — I want to 
wock * my dolly — oo — oo — oo — ee — ee — ee — ” 

"You young scoundrel,” I screamed — yes, howled, 
I was so enraged — " I’ve a great mind to cut your 
throat this minute. What do you mean by meddling 
with my trunk ? ” 

"I — doe — know.” Outward turned Toddie’s lower 
lip; I believe the sight of it would move a Bengal 
tiger to pity, but no such thought occurred to me just 
then. 

" What made you do it ? ” 

— cause.” 

"Because what?” 

"I — doe — know.” 

Just then a terrific roar arose from the garden. 
Looking out, I saw Budge with a bleeding finger upon 
one hand, and my razor in the other; he afterward 
explained he had been making a boat, and that knife 
was bad to him. To apply adhesive plaster to the cut 


•Rock 


HELENAS BABIES. 


43 


was the work of but a minute, and I had barely com- 
pleted this surgical operation when Tom’s gardener- 
coachman appeared, and handed me a letter. It was 
addressed in Helen’s well-known hand, and read as 
follows (the passages in brackets were my own 
comments) : — 


^ “ Bloomdale, June 21, 1875. 

“ Dear Harry : — I’m very happy in the thought that you are 
with my darling children, and, although I’m having a lovely time 
here, I often wish I was with you. [Ump — so do I.] I want 
you to know the little treasures real well. [Thank you, but I 
don’t think I care to extend the acquaintanceship farther than is 
absolutely necessary.] It seems to me so unnatural that relatives 
know so little of those of their own blood, and especially of the 
innocent little spirits whose existence is almost unheeded. [Not 
when there’s unlocked trunks standing about, sis.] 

“ Now I want to ask a favor of you. When we were boys and 
girls at home, you used to talk perfect oceans about physiog- 
nomy, and phrenology, and unerring signs of character. I 
thought it was all nonsense then, but if you believe any of it now, 
I wish you’d study the children, and give me your well-considered 
opicion of them. [Perfect demons, ma’am ; imps, rascals, born 
to be hung — both of them.] 

I can’t get over the feeling that dear Budge is born for some- 
thing grand. [Grand nuisance.] He is sometimes so thought* 


44 


HELENAS BABIES, 


ful and so absorbed, that I almost fear the result of disturbing 
him ; then, he has that faculty of perseverance which seems to 
be the only thing some men have lacked to make them great. 
[He certainly has it ; he exemplified it while I was trying to get 
to sleep this morning.] 

“ Toddie is going to make a poet or a musician or an artist. 
[That’s so ; all abominable scamps take to some artistic pursuit 
as an excuse for loafing.] Ilis fancies take hold of him very 
strongly. [They do — they do; “^ee wheels go wound,” for 
instance.] He has not Budgie’s sublime earnestness, but he 
doesn’t need it; the irresistible force with which he is drawn 
toward whatever is beautiful compensates for the lack. [Ah — 
perhaps that explains his operation with my trunk.] But I 
want your own opinion, for I know you make more careful dis- 
tinction in character than I do. 

“ Delighting myself with the idea that I deserve most of the 
credit for the lots of reading you will have done by this time, 
and hoping I shall soon have a line telling me how my darlings 
are, I am, as ever. 

. “ Your loving sister 

“ Helen.” 

Seldom have I been so roused by a letter as I was 
by this one, and never did 1 promise myself more 
genuine pleasure in writing a reply. I determined 
that it should be a master-piece of analysis and of 
calm yet forcible expression of opinion. 


HELENAS BABIES, 


45 


Upon one step, at any rate, I was positively deter- 
mined. Calling the girl, I asked her where the key 
was that locked the door between my room and the 
children. 

" Please, sir, Toddie threw it down the well.” 

” Is there a locksmith in the village ? ” 

•’’No, sir; the nearest one is at Paterson.” 

" Is there a screw-driver in the house ? ” 

Yes, sir.” 

Bring it to me, and tell the coachman to get ready 
at once to drive me to Paterson.” 

The *5crew-driver was brought, and with it I re- 
moved the lock, got into the carriage, and told the 
driver to take me to Paterson by the hill-road — one 
of the most beautiful roads in America. 

” Paterson I ” exclaimed Budge. ** Oh, there’s a 
candy-store in that town ; come on, Toddie.” 

” Will you? ” thought I, snatching the whip and giv- 
ing the horses a cut. Not if I can help it. The idea 
of having such a drive spoiled by the clatter of such a 
couple I ” 

Awaj' went the horses, and up rose a piercing shriek 
and a terrible roar. It seemed that both children must 


46 


HELEN'* 8 BABIES. 


have been mortally hurt, and I looked out hastily, only 
to see Budge and Toddie running after the carriage, 
and crying pitifully. It was too pitiful, — I could not 
have proceeded without them, even if they had been 
afflicted with small-pox. The driver stopped of his 
own accord, — he seemed to know the children’s ways 
and their results, — and I helped Budge and Toddie 
in, meekly hoping that the eye of Providence was 
upon me, and that so self-sacrificing an act would be 
duly passed to my credit. As we reached the hill 
road, my kindness to my nephews seemed to assume 
greater proportions, for the view before me was inex- 
pressibly beautiful. The air was perfectly clear, and 
across two score towns I saw the great metropolis it- 
self, the silent city of Greenwood beyond it, the bay, 
the narrows, the sound, the two silvery rivers lying 
between me and the Palisades, and even, across and to 
the south of Brooklyn, the ocean itself. Wonderful 
effects of light and shadow, picturesque masses, com- 
posed of detached buildings so far distant that they 
seemed huddled together; grim factories turned to 
beautiful palaces by the dazzling refiection of sun- 
light fi'om their window-panes ; great ships seeming in 


HELENAS BABIES. 


47 


the distance to be toy-boats floating idly ; — with no 
sign of life perceptible, the whole scene recalled the 
fairy stories, read in my youthful days, of enchanted 
cities, and the illusion was greatly strengthened by the 
dragon-like shape of the roof of New York’s new post- 
oflice, lying in the centre of everything, and seeming 
to brood over all. 

Uncle Harry I ” 

Ah, that was what I expected 1 

” Uncle Harry I ” 

"Well, Budge?” 

" I always think that looks like heaven.” 

"What does?” 

" Why, all that, — from here over to that other sky 
way back there behind everything, I mean. And I 
think that (here he pointed toward what probably was 
a photographer’s roof-light) — that place where it’s so 
shiny, is where God stays.” 

Bless the child I The scene had suggested only 
elfindom to me, and yet I prided myself on my quick 
sense of artistic effects. 

" Am’ over there where that awful bright little speck 
is,” continued Budge, ^Hhat’s where dear little brother 


48 


HELENAS BABIES, 


Phillie is ; wlienever I look over there, I see him put- 
ting his hand out.” 

” Dee ’ittle Phillie went to s’eep in a box, and the 
Lord took him to heaven,” murmured Toddie, putting 
together all he had seen and heard of death. Then he 
raised his voice, and exclaimed ; — 

" Ockeu Ilawwy, you know what Iz’he goiif do when 
I he’s big man? Iz’he goin’ to have bosses an’ tarridge, 
an’ Iz’he goin’ to wide over all ze chees an’ all ze houses, 
an’ all ze world an’ evvj'fing. An’ whole lots of little 
birdies is cornin’ in my tarridge an’ sing songs to me, 
an’ you can come too if you want to, an’ we’ll have ice- 
cream an’ ’trawberries, an’ see ’ittle fishes swimmin’ 
down in ze water, an’ we’ll get a g’eat big house that’s 
all p’itty on the outshide an all p’itty on the inshide, 
and it’ll all be ours and we’ll do just evvyfing we want 
to.” 

" Toddy, you’re an idealist.” 

Aint a ’dealisht.” 

Toddy’s a goosey -gander,” remarked Budge, with 
great gravity. "Uncle Harry, do you think heaven’s as 
nice as that place over there ? ” 

" Yes, Budge, a great deal nicer, ” 


HELENAS BABIES. 


49 

” Then why don’t we die an’ go there ? I don’t want 
to go on livin’ forever an’ ever. I don’t see why we 
don't die right away; I think we’ve lived enough of 
days.” 

The Lord wants us to live until we get good and 
slnnig and smart, and do a great deal of good before 
we die, old fellow — that’s why we don’t die right 
away.” 

” Well, I want to see dear little Phillie, an’ if the 
Lord won’t let him come down here, I think He might 
let me die an’ go to heaven. Little Phillie always 
laughed when I jumped for him. Uncle Harry, angels 
has wings, don’t they?” 

" Some people think they have, old boy.” 

” Well, I know they donH^ cos if Phillie had wings, 
1 know he'd lly right down here an’ see me. So they 
don’t.” 

”But maybe he has to go somewhere else. Budge, 
or maybe he comes and you can’t see him. We can’t 
see angels with our eyes, you know.” 

rUen \N liat made the Hebrew children in the fiery 
fuinace see one? Their eyes was just like ours, wasn’t 
they? I don’t care; I want to see dear little Phillie 
I 


50 


HELENAS BABIES* 


awful much. Undo Harry, if I went to heaven, do 
yon know what I’d do ? ” 

^Vhat would you do. Budge ? ” 

” Why, after I saw little Phillie, I’d go right up to 
the Lord an’ give him a great big hug.” 

” 'What for. Budge ? ” 

"Oh, cos he lets us have nice times, an’ gave me 
my mamma an papa, an’ Phillie — but he took him 
away again — an’ Toddie, but Toddie’s a dreadful bad 
boy sometimes, though.” 

"Very true. Budge,” said I, remembering my trunk 
and the object of my ride. 

"Uncle Harry, did you ever see the Lord?” 

" No, Budge ; he has been very close to me a good 
many times, but I never saw him.” 

" Well, / have ; I see him every time Hook up in the 
eky, and there aint nobody with me.” 

The driver crossed himself and whispered, "He’s 
foriver a-sayin’ that, an’ be the powers, I belave him. 
Sometimes ye’d think that the howly saints thimselves 
was a-sphakin whin that bye gits to goin’ on that 
way.” 

It v)as wonderful. Budge’s countenance seemed toe 


SBLEN^S BABIES, 


51 


pure to be of the earth as he continued to express his 
ideas of the better land and its denizens. As for 
Toddie, his tongue was going incessantly, although ii; 
a tone scarcely audible ; but when I chanced to cal(:h 
his expressions, they were so droll and fanciful, that 1 
took him upon my lap that I might hear him more dis- 
tinctly. I even detected myself in the act of examin- 
ing the mental draft of my proposed letter to Helen, 
and of being ashamed of it. But neither Toddie’s 
fancy nor Budge’s spirituality caused me to forget the 
principal object of my ride. I found a locksmith and 
left the lock to be fitted with a key ; then we drove to 
the Falls. Both boys discharged volleys of questions 
as we stood by the gorge, and the fact that the roar of 
the falling water prevented me from hearing them did 
not cause them to relax their efforts in the least. 1 
walked to the hotel for a cigar, taking the children 
with me. I certainly spent no more than three min- 
utes in selecting and lighting a cigar, and asking the 
bar-keeper a few questions about the Falls ; but when I 
turned, the children were missing, nor could I see 
them in any direction. Suddenly before my eyes 
arose from the nearer brink of the gorge two yellowish 


52 


HELENAS BABIES. 


discs, which I recognized as the hats of my nephews; 
then I saw between the discs and me two small figures 
lying upon the ground. I was afraid to shout, for fear 
of scaring them, if they happened to hear me. I 
bounded across the grass, industriously raving and 
praying by turns. They were lying on their stomachs 
and looking over the edge of the cliff. I approached 
them on tip-toe, threw myself upon the ground, and 
grasped a foot of each child. 

Oh, Uncle Harry ! ” screamed Budge in my ear, as 
I dragged him close to me, kissing and shaking him 
alternately, hunged over more thanToddie did.” 

"Well, I — I — I — I — I — I — I hunged over a 
good deal, any how,” said Toddle, in self-defence. 

That afternoon I devoted to making a bouquet for 
Miss Mayton, and a most delightful occupation I found 
it. It was no florist’s bouquet, composed of only a few 
kinds of flowers, wired upon sticks, and arranged 
according to geometric pattern. I used many a rare 
flower, too shy of bloom to recommend itself to florists ; 
I combined tints almost as numerous as the flow^ers 
were, and perfumes to which city bouquets are utter 


HELElfS BABIES, 


53 


strangers. Arranging flowers is a favorite pastime of 
mine, but upon this partieular occasion I enjoy el iny 
work more than I had ever done before. Not that I 
was in love with Miss Mayton ; a man may honestly 
and strongly admire a handsome, brilliant woman 
without being in love with her ; he can delight himself 
in trying to give her pleasure, without feeling it neces- 
sary that she shall give him herself in return. Since I 
arrived at years of discretion, I have always smiled 
sarcastically at the mention of the generosity of men 
who were in love ; they have seemed to me rather to 
be asking an immense price for what they offered. I 
had no such feeling toward Miss Mayton. There have 
been heathens who have ofiered gifts to goddesses out 
of pure adoration and without any idea of ever having 
the exclusive companionship of their favorite divinities. 
I never ofiered Miss IVIayton any attention which did 
not put me into closer sympathy with these same 
great-souled old Pagans, and with such Christians as 
follow their good example. With each new grace my 
bouquet took on, my pleasure and satisfaction increased 
at the thought of how she would enjoy the completed 
evidence of my taste. 


54 


HELENAS BABIES, 


At length it was finished, but my delight suddenly 
became clouded by the dreadful thought, " What will 
folks say?” Had we been in New York instead of 
Ilillcrest, no one but the florist, his messenger, the 
lady and myself would know if I sent a bouquet to 
Miss Mayton ; but in Ilillcrest, with its several hun- 
dred native-born gossips, and its acquaintance of 
everybody with everybody else and their afiairs, — I 
feared talk. Upon the discretion of Mike, the coach- 
man, I could safely rely ; I had already confidentially 
conveyed sundry bits of fractional currency to him, 
and informed him of one of the parties at our store 
whose family Mike had known in Old Erin ; but 
every one knew where Llike was employed ; every one 
knew — mysterious, unseen and swift are the ways of 
communication in the country I — that I was the only 
gentleman at present residing at Colonel Lawrence’s. 
Ah! — I had it. I had seen in one of the library- 
drawers a small pasteboard box, shaped like a band- 
box — doubtless that would hold it. I found the box 
— it was of just the size I needed. I dropped my 
card into the bottom, — no danger of a lady not finding 
the card accompanying a gift of flowers, — neatly fitted 


HELENAS BABIES. 


55 


the bouquet in the centre of the box, and went in search 
• of Mike. He winked cheeringly as I explained the 
nature of his errand, and he whispered : — 

"I’ll do it as clane as a whistle, yer honor. Mistress 
Clarkson’s cook an’ mesilf understhand each other, an’ 
I’m used to goin’ \ip the back way. Dhivil a man can 
see but the angels, an’ they won’t tell.” 

"Very well, Mike; here’s a dollar for you; you’ll 
find the box on the hat-rack, in the hall.” 

Half an hour later, while I sat in my chamber win- 
dow, reading, I beheld Mike, cleanly shaved, dressed 
and brushed, swinging up the road, with my box bal- 
anced on one of his enormous hands. With a head 
full of pleasing fancies, I went down to supper. My 
new friends were unusually good. Their ride seemed 
to have toned down their boisterousness and elevated 
their little souls ; their appetites exhibited no diminu- 
tion of force, but they talked but little, and all that 
they said was smart, funny, or startling — so much so 
that when, after supper, they invited me to put them 
to bed, I gladly accepted the invitation. Toddie dis- 
appeared somewhere, and came back very discon- 
solate. 


o6 


Helen's babies. 


Can’t find my dolly’s k’adle,” he whined. 

” Never mind, old pet,” said I, soothingly. Uncle 
will ride you on his foot.” 

”But 1 want my dolly’s k’adle,” said he, piteously 
rolling out his lower lip. 

I remembered my experience when Toddic wanted 
to ”shee wheels go wound,” and I trembled. 

"Toddie,” said I, in a tone so persuasive that it 
would be worth thousands a year to me, as a salesman, 
if I could only command it at will; *'Toddie, don’t 
you want to ride on uncle’s back?” 

''No; want my dolly’s k’adle.” 

"Don’t you want me to tell you a story?” 

For a moment Toddie’s face indicated a terrible in- 
ternal conflict between old Adam and mother Eve, but 
curiosity finally overpowered natural depravity, and 
Toddie murmured : — 

"Yesh.” 

" What shall I tell you about?” 

"’Bout Nawndeark.” 

" About 

"He means Noah an’ the ark,” exclaimed Budire. 

" Datsh what I shay — Nawndeark,” declared Toddie. 


HELENAS BABIES, 


57 


Well,” said I, hastily refreshing my memory by 
picking up the Bibie, — for Helen, like most ])eople, is 
pretty sure to forget to pack her Bible when she runs 
away from home for a few days, — " well, once it rained 
forty days and nights, and everybody 'was drowned 
from the face of the earth excepting Noah, a righteous 
man, who was saved with all his family, in an ark 
which the Lord commanded him to build.” 

” Uncle Harry,” said Budge, after contem^dating me 
with open eyes and mouth for at least two minutes 
after 1 had finished, ” do you think that’s Noah?” 

" Certainly, Budge ; here’s the whole story in the 
Bible.” 

” Well, I don’t think it’s Noah one single bit,” «aid 
he, with increasing emphasis. 

"I’m beginning to think we read dificrent Bibles, 
Budge ; but let’s hear your version.” 

"Huh?” 

" Toll me about Noah, if you know so much about 
him.” 

"I will, if you want me to. Once the Lord felt so 
uncomfortable cos folks was bad that he was sorry he 
ever made anybody, or any world or anything. But 


58 


HELENA'S BABIES, 


Noah wasn’t bad — the Lord liked him first-rate, so he 
told Noah to build a big ark, and then the Lord would 
make it rain so everybody should be drownded but Noah 
an’ his little boys an’ girls, an’ doggies an’ pussies an* 
mamma-cows an’ little-boy-cows an’ little-girl-cows an' 
bosses an’ everything — they’d go in the ark an’ wouldn’t 
get wetted a bit, when it rained. An’ Noah took lots of 
things to eat in the ark — cookies, an’ milk, an’ oatmeal, 
an’ strawberries, an’ porgies an’ — oh, yes; an’ plum- 
puddins’ an’ pumpkin-pies. But Noah didn’t want 
everybody to get drownded, so he talked to folks an’ 
said, * It’s goin’ to rain awful pretty soon ; you’d better 
be good, an’ then the Lord’ll let you come into my 
ark.’ An’ they jus’ said, * Oh, if it rains we’ll go in the 
house till it stops ; ’ an’ other folks said, * We aint 
afraid of rain — we’ve got an umbrella.’ An’ some 
more said, they wasn’t goin’ to be afraid of just a 
rain. But it did rain though, an’ folks went in their 
houses, an’ the water came in, an’ they went upstairs, 
an’ the water came up there, an’ they got on the tops 
of the houses, an’ up in big trees, an’ up in mountains, 
an’ the water went after ’em everywhere an’ drownded 
everybody, only just except Noah and the people iu 


HELENAS BABIES, 


69 


the ark. An’ it rained forty days an’ nights, an* then 
it stopped, an’ Noah got out of the ark, an’ he and his 
little boys an’ girls went wherever they wanted to, and 
everything in the world was all theirs ; there wasn’t 
anybody to tell ’em to go home, nor no Kindergarten 
schools to go to, nor no bad boys to fight ’em, nor 
nothin.’ Now tell us ’nother story.” 

I determined that I would not again attempt to 
repeat portions of the Scripture narrative — my expe- 
rience in that direction had not been encouraging. I 
ventured upon a war story. 

” Do you know what the war was ? ” I asked, by way 
of reconnoissance. 

"Oh, yes,” said Budge, "papa was there, an’ he’s 
got a sword ; don’t you see it, bangin’ up there ? ” 

Yes, I saw it, and the diflerence between the ter- 
rible field where last I saw Tom’s sword in action, and 
this quiet room where it now hung, forced me into a 
reverie from which I was aroused by Budge remark- 
ing : — 

" Aint you goin’ to tell us one ? ” 

" Oh, yes, Budge. One day while the war was 
going on, there was a whole lot of soldiers going 


60 


mblsn's babies. 


along a road, and they were as hungry as they could 
be ; they hadn't had anything to eat that day.” 

”Why didn’t they go into the houses, and tell the 
people they was hungry ? That’s what I do when I 
goes along roads.” 

” Because the people in that country didn’t like 
them; the brothers and papas and husbands of those 
people were soldiers, too ; but they didn’t like the 
soldiers I told you about first, and they wanted to kill 
them.” 

"I don’t think they were a bit nice,” said Budge, 
with considerable decision. 

"Well, the first soldiers wanted to kOl themy 
Budge.” 

" Then they was dll bad, to want to kill each other.” 

"Oh, no, they weren’t; there were a great many 
real good men on both sides.” 

Poor Budge looked sadly puzzled, as he had an 
excellent right to do, since the wisest and best men 
are sorely perplexed by the nature of warlike feeling. 

"Both parties of soldiers were on horseback,” I 
continued, " and they were near each other, and when 


HELEN'" 8 BABIES. 


61 


they saw each other they made their horses run fast, 
and the bugles blew, and the soldiers all took their 
swords out to kill each other with, when just then a 
little boy, who had been out in the woods to pick ber- 
ries for his mamma, tried to run across the road, and 
caught his toe some way, and fell down, and cried. 
Then somebody hollooed Halt I ” very loud, and all 
the horses on one side stopped, and then somebody else 
hollooed " Halt I ” and a lot of bugles blew, and every 
horse on the other side stopped, and one soldier jumped 
off his horse, and picked up the little boy, — he was only 
about as big as you. Budge, — and tried to comfort 
him ; and then a soldier from the other side came up 
to look at him, and then more soldiers came from both 
sides to look at him; and when he got better and 
walked home, the soldiers all rode away, because they 
didn’t feel like fighting just then.” 

” O Uncle Harry I I think it was an awful good 
soldier that got off his horse to take care of that poor 
little boy.” 

”Do you. Budge? who do you think it was?” 

” 1 dunno.” 


62 


HELENAS BABIES, 


” It was your papa.” 

Oh — h — h — h — hi” If Tom could have but 
seen the expression upon his boy’s face as he prolonged 
this exclamation, his loss of one of the grandest 
chances a cavalry officer ever had would not have 
seemed so great to him as it had done for years. He 
seemed to take in the story in all its bearings, and his 
great eyes grew in depth as they took on the far-away 
look which seemed too earnest for the strensrth of an 
earthly being to support. 

But Toddie, — he who a fond mamma thought en 
do wed with art sense — Toddie had throughout my 
recital the air of a man who was musing on some affair 
of his own, and Budge’s exclamation had hardly died 
away, when Toddie commenced to weave aloud an ex- 
travaganza wholly his own. 

” When 1 was a soldier,” he remarked, very gravely, 
”I had a coat an’ a hat on, an’ a muff, an’ a little 
knake* wound my neck to keep me warm, an’ it 
wained, an’ hailed, an’ ’termed, an’ I felt bad, so I 
whallowed a sword an’ burned me all down dead.” 


* Snake : tippet. 


HELENAS BABIES. 


63 


” And how did you get here?” I asked, with inter- 
est proportioned to the importance of Toddie’s last 
clause. 

Oh, I got up from the burn-down dead, an’ corned 
right here. An’ I want my dolly’s k’adle.” 

O persistent little dragon I If you were of age, 
what a fortune you might make in business I 

Uncle Harry, I wish my papa would come home 
right away,” said Budge. 

AYhy, Budge ? ” 

” I want to love him for bein’ so good to that poor 
little boy in the war.” 

Ocken Ilawwy, I wants my dolly’s k’adle, tause 
my dolly’s in it, an’ I want to shee her ; ” thus spake 
Toddie. 

” Don’t you think the Lord loved my papa awful 
much for doin’ that sweet thing. Uncle Harry?” asked 
Budge. 

” Yes, old fellow, I feel sure that he did. ” 

”Lord lovesh my papa vewy much, so I love ze 
Lord vewy much,” remarked Toddie. ”An’I wants 
nay dolly’s k’adle an’ my dolly.” 

” Toddie, I don’t know where either of them are — 


64 


HELENAS BABIES. 


I can’t find them now — do wait until morning, then 
Uncle Harry will look for them.” 

” I don’t see how the Lord can get along in heaven 
without my papa, Uncle Harry,” said Budge. 

”Lord takesh papa to heaven, an’ Budgie an’ me, 
and we’ll go walldn’ an’ see ze Lord, an’ play wif ze 
angels’ wings, an’ hazh good timsh, an’ never have to 
go to bed, at all, at all.” 

Pure-hearted little innocents I compared with older 
people whom we endure, how great thy faith and how 
few thy faults I How superior thy love — 

A knock at the door interrupted me. ” Come in I ” 
I shouted. 

In stepped Mike, with an air of the greatest secrecy, 
handed me a letter and the identical box in which I had 
sent the flowers to Miss Mayton. What could it mean ? 
I hastily opened the envelope, and at the same time 
Toddie shrieked : — 

”Oh, darsh my dolly’s k’adle — dare tizh 1 ” snatched 
and opened the box, and displayed — his doll I My 
heart sickened, and did iwt regain its strength during 
the perusal of the following note : — 


Helen's babies. 


65 


Miss Mayton herewith returns to Mr. Burton the package 
which just arrived, with his card. She recognizes the contents 
as a portion of the apparent property of one of Mr. Burton’s 
nephews, but is unable to understand why it should have been 
sent to her. 

“ June 20, 1875.” 

” Toddie,” I roared, as my younger nephew caressed 
his loathsome doll, and murmured endearing words to 
it, " where did you get that box ? ” 

" On the hat-wack,” replied the youth, with perfect 
fearlessness, I keeps it in ze book-case djawer, an’ 
somebody took it ’way an’ put nasty ole flowers in it.’ 

" Where are those flowers ? ” I demanded. 

Toddie looked up with considerable sm’prise, but 
promptly replied : — 

** I froed ’em away — don’t want no ole flowers in my 
dolly’s k’adle. That’s ze way she wocks — see I ” And 
this horrible little destroyer of human hopes rolled that 
box back and forth with the most utter unconcern, as 
he spoke endearing words to the substitute for my 
beautiful bouquet I 

To say that I looked at Toddie reprovingly is to ex- 
press my feelings in the most inadequate language, but 

6 


66 


HELElfS BABIES. 


of language in which to express my feelings to Toddie, 
I could find absolutely none. .Within two or three 
short moments I had discovered how very anxious I 
really was to merit Miss Mayton’s regard, and how 
very different was the regard I wanted from that which 
I had previously hoped might be accorded me. It 
seemed too ridiculous to be true that I, who had for 
years had dozens of charming lady acquaintances, and 
yet had always maintained my common sense and self- 
control ; I, who had always considered it unmanly for a 
man to specially interest himself in any lady until he 
had an income of five thousand a year ; I who had 
skilfully, and many times, argued, that life-attachments, 
or attempts thereat, which were made without a careful 
preliminary study of the mental characteristics of the 
partner desired, was the most unpardonable folly, — 1 
had transgressed every one of my own rules, and, as if 
to mock me for any pretended wisdom and care, my 
weakness was made known to me by a three-year-old 
marplot and a hideous rag-doll I 

That merciful and ennobling dispensation by which 
Providence enables us to temper the severity of oui 
own sufferings by alleviating those of others, came soon 


HELENA'S BABIES, 


67 


to my rescue. Under my stern glance Toddie gradually 
lost interest in his doll and its cradle, and began to 
thrust forth and outward his piteous lower lip, and 
to weep copiously. 

" Dee Lord, not make me sho bad,” he cried through 
his tears. I doubt his having had any very clear idea 
of what he was saying, or whom he was addressing; 
but had the publican of whose prayer Toddie made so 
fair a paraphrase worn such a face when he offered his 
famous petition, it could not have been denied for a 
moment. Toddie even retired to a comer, and hid his 
face in self-imposed penance. 

"Never mind, Toddie,” said I, sadly; "you didn’t 
mean to do it, I know.” 

"I wantsh to love you,” sobbed Toddie. 

"Well, come here, you poor little fellow,” said I, 
Oldening my arms, and wondering whether ’twas not 
after contemplation of some such sinner that good 
Bishop Tegner wrote : — 

“ Depths of love are atonement’s depths, for love is atonement.” 

Toddie came to my arms, shed tears freely upon my 
shirt-front, and finally, after heaving a very long sigh, 
remarked : — 


68 


MELEN^S BABIES. 


" 'W’antsh you to love me.” 

I complied with his request. Theoretically, I had 
long believed that the higher wisdom of the Creator 
was most frequently expressed through the medium of 
his most innocent creations. Surely here was a confir- 
mation of my theory, for who else had ever practically 
taught me the duty of the injured one toward his 
oflender? I kissed Toddie and petted him, and at 
length succeeded in quieting him ; his little face, in 
spite of much dirt and many tear-stains, was upturned 
with more of beauty in it than it ever held when its 
owner was full of joy ; he looked earnestly, confidingly, 
into my eyes, and I congratulated myself upon the 
perfection of my forgiving spirit, when Toddie suddenly 
re-exhibited to me my old unregenerate nature, and the 
incompleteness of my forgiveness, by saying : — 

"Kish my dolly, too.” 

I obeyed. My forgiveness was made complete, but 
80 was my humiliation. I abruptly closed our inter- 
view. We exchanged " Gt)d bless you’s,” according to 
Budge’s instructions of the previous night, and at least 
one of the participants in this devotional exercise hoped 
the petitions made by the other were distinctly heard. 


HELEN' 3 BABIES, 


69 


Then I dropped into an easy-chair in the library, and 
fell b) thinking. I found myself really and seriously 
troubled by the results of Toddie’s operation with my 
bouquet. I might explain the matter to Miss May ton 

— I undoubtedly could, for she was too sensible a 
woman to be easily offended merely by a ridiculous 
mistake, caused by a child. But she would laugh at 
me — how could she help it? — and to be laughed at 
by Miss Ma3rton was a something the mere thought of 
which tormented me in a manner that made me fairly 
ashamed of myself. Like every other young man 
among young men, I had been the butt of many a 
rough joke, and had borne them without wincing; it 
seemed cowardly and contemptible that I should be so 
sensitive under the mere thought of laughter which 
would probably bo heard by no one but Miss Mayton 
herself. But the laughter of a mere acquaintance is 
likely to lessen respect for the person laughed at. 
Heavens I the thought was unendurable ! At any rate, 
I must Avrite an early apology. When I was corre- 
spondent for the house with which I am now salesman I 
reclaimed many an old customer who had wandered off 

— certainly I might hope by a well-written letter to 


70 


HELENAS BABIES, 


regjiin in Miss Mjiyton’s respect whatever position I 
had lost. I hastily drafted a letter, corrected it caie* 
fully, copied it in due form, and forwarded it by the 
faithful Michael. Then I tried to read, but without the 
least success. For hours I paced the piazza and con- 
sumed cigars ; when at last I retired it was with many 
ideas, hopes, fears, and fancies which had never before 
been mine. True to my trust, I looked into my 
nephews* room ; there lay the boys, in postures more 
graceful than any which brush or chisel have ever 
reproduced. Toddie, in particular, wore so lovely an 
expression that I could not refrain from kissing him. 
But I was none the less careful to make use of my new 
key, and to lock my other door also. 

The next day was the Sabbath. Believing fully in 
the binding force and worldly wisdom of the Fourth 
Commandment, so far as it refers to rest, I have 
conscientiouly trained myself to sleep two hours later 
on the morning of the holy day than I ever allowed 
myself to do on business days. But having inherited, 
besides a New England conscience, a New England 
abhorrence of waste, I regularly sit up two hours later 


HELENAS BABIES. 


71 


ou Saturday nights than on any others ; and the night 
preceding this particular Sabbath was no exception to 
the rule, as the reader may imagine from the foregoing 
recital. At about 5.30 A.M., however, I became 
conscious that my nephews were not in accord with 
me on the Sinaitic law. They were not only awake, 
but were disputing vigorously, and, seemingly, very 
loudly, for I heard their words very distinctly. With 
sleepy condescension I endeavored to ignore these 
noisy irreverents, but I was suddenly moved to a 
belief in the doctrine of vicarious atonement, for a 
flying body, with more momentum than weight, struck 
mo upon the not prominent bridge of my nose, and 
speedily and with unnecessary force accommodated 
itself to the outline of my eyes. After a moment 
spent in anguish, and in wondering how the missive 
came through closed doors and windows, I discovered 
that my pain had been caused by one of the dolls, 
which, from its extreme imcleanness, I suspected 
belonged to Toddie ; I also discovered that the door 
between the rooms was open. 

Who threw that doll ? ” I shouted, sternly. 

There came no response. 


72 


HELENAS BABIES, 


” Do you hear ? ” I roared. 

'*What is it, Uncle Harry?” asked Budge, Ti^itb 
most exquisitely polite inflection. 

Who threw that doll ? ” 

"Huh?” 

" I say, who threw that doll ? ” 

" Why, nobody did it.” 

"Toddie, who threw that doll?” 

"Budge did,” replied Toddie, in muflled tones, sug- 
gestive of a brotherly hand laid forcibly over a pair 
of small lips. 

" Budge, what did you do it for ? ” 

" Why — why — I — because - - why, you see — 
because, why, Toddie froo his dolly in my mouth; 
some of her hair went in, any how, an’ I didn’t want 
Ips dolly in my mouth, so I sent it back to him, an’ 
the foot of the bed didn’t stick up enough, so it went 
froo the door to your bed — that’s what for.” 

The explanation seemed to bear marks of genuine- 
ness, albeit the pain of my eye was not alleviated 
thereby, while the exertion expended in eliciting 
the information had so thoroughly awakened me that 
further sleep was out of the question. Besides, the 


HELEN' a BABIES. 


78 


open door, — had a burglar been in the room ? No ; 
my watch and pocket-book were undisturbed. 

Budge, who opened that door?” 

After some hesitation, as if wondering who really 
did it. Budge replied : — 

"Me.” 

" How did you do it ? ” 

" Why, you see we wanted a drink, an’ the door was 
fast, so we got out the window on the parazzo roof, an’ 
corned in your window.” (Here a slight pause.) "An’ 
’twas fun. An’ then we unlocked the door, an’ 
corned back.” 

Then I should be compelled to lock my window- 
blinds — or theirs, and this in the summer season, too I 
Oh, if Helen could have but passed the house as that 
white-robed procession had filed along the piazza-roof I 
I lay pondering over the vast amount of unused 
ingenuity that was locked up in millions of children, 
or employed only to work misery among unsuspecting 
adults, when I heard light footfalls at my bedside, 
and saw a small shape with a grave face approach and 
remark ; — 

" I wants to come in your bed.” 


74 


HELEN' S BABIES, 


” Wliat for, Toddie ? ” 

To fwolic ; papa always fwolics us Sunday mornings. 
Turn, Budgie, Ocken Hawwy’s doin’ to fwolic us.” 

Budge replied by shrieking with delight, tumbling 
out of bed, and hurrying to that side of my bed not 
already occupied by Toddie. Then those two little 
savages sounded the onslaught and advanced precipi- 
tately upon me. Sometimes, during the course of my 
life, I have had day-dreams which I have told to no 
one. Among these has been one — not now so dis- 
tinct as it was before my four years of campaigning — 
of one day meeting in deadly combat the painted 
Indian of the plains ; of listening undismayed to his 
frightful war-whoop, and of exemplifying in my own 
person the inevitable result of the pale-face’s superior 
intelligence. But upon this particular Sunday morn- 
ing I relinquished this idea informally, but forever. 
Before the advance of these diminutive warriors I 
quailed contemptibly, and their battle-cry sent more 
terror to my soul than that member ever experienced 
from the well-remembered rebel yell. According to 
Toddie, I was going to "fwolic” them; but from the 
first they took the whole business into their own little 


HELENAS BABIES, 


75 


blit effective hands. Toddie pronounced my knees, 
collectively, "a horsie-bonnie,” and bestrode them, 
laughing gleefully at my effoits to unseat him, and 
holding himself in position by digging his pudgy 
fingers into whatever portions of my anatomy he could 
most easily seize. Budge shouted, want a horsie, 
too I ” and seated himself upon my chest. ” This is 
the way the horsie goes,” explained he, as lie slowly 
rocked himself backward and forward. I began to 
realize how my brother-in-law, who had once been a 
fine gjnnnast, had become so flat-chested. Just then 
Budge’s face assumed a more spirited expression, his 
eyes opened wide and lightened up, and, shouting, 
"This the way the horsie trots , he stood upright, 
threw up his feet, and dropped his forty-three aver- 
dupois pounds forcibly upon my lungs. He repeated 
this operation several times before I fully recovered 
from the shock conveyed by his combined impudence 
and weight ; but pain finally brought my senses back, 
and with a wild plunge I unseated my demoniac riders 
and gained a clear space in the middle of the floor. 

”Ah — h — h — h — h — h — h,” screamed Toddie, 
" I wants to wide horshie backen.” 


76 


HELENAS BABIES, 


’’Boo — 00 — 00 — 00 — roared Budge, "’I thiuk 
5w’re real mean. I don’t love you at all.” 

Kegardless alike of Toddie’s desires, of Budge’e 
opinion, and the cessation of his regard, I performed a 
hasty toilet. Notwithstanding my lost rest, I savagely 
thanked the Lord for Sunday ; at church, at least, I 
could be free from my tormentors. At the breakfast- 
table both boys invited themselves to accompany me 
to the sanctuary, but I declined, without thanks. To 
take them might be to assist somewhat in teaching 
them one of the best of habits, but I strongly doubted 
whether the severest Providence would consider it my 
duty to endure the probable consequences of such an 
attempt. Besides I might meet Miss Mayton. I both 
hoped and feared I might, and I could not endure the 
thought of appearing before her with the causes of my 
pleasant remembrance. Budge protested and Toddie 
wept, but I remained firm, although I was so willing 
to gratify their reasonable desires that I took them out 
for a long ante-service walk. MTiile enjoying this 
little trip I delighted the children by killing a snako 
and spoiling a slender cane at the same time, my owu 
sole consolation coming from the discovery that the 


SELEN^a BABIES, 


77 


remains of the staff were sufficient to make a cane for 
Budge. While returning to the house and preparing 
for church I entered into a solemn agreement with 
Budge, who was usually recognized as the head of this 
fraternal partnership. Budge contracted, for himself 
and brother, to make no attempts to enter my room ; 
to refrain from fighting ; to raise loose dirt only with a 
shovel, and to convey it to its destination by means 
other than their own hats and aprons ; to pick no 
flowers ; to open no water-faucets ; to refer all disa- 
greements to the cook, as arbitrator, and to build no 
houses of the new books which I had stacked upon 
the library table. In consideration of the promised 
faithful observance of these conditions, I agreed that 
Budge should be allowed to come alone to Sabbath 
school, which convened directly after morning ser- 
vice, he to start only after Maggie had pronounced 
him duly cleansed and clothed. As Toddie was daily 
kept in bed from eleven to one, I felt that I might 
safely worship without distracting fears, for Budge 
could not alone, and in a single hour, become guilty of 
any particular sin. The church at Hillcrest had many 
more seats than members, and as but few summer 


78 


HELENAS BABIMB. 


visitors had yet appeared in the town, 1 was conscious 
of being industriously stared at by the native members 
of the congregation. This was of itself discomfort 
enough, but not all to which I twas destined, for the 
usher conducted me quite near to the altar, and 
showed me into a pew whose only other occupant was 
IVliss Mayton I Of course the lady did not recognize 
me — she was too carefully bred to do anything of the 
sort in church, and I spent ten uncomfortable minutes 
in mentally abusing the customs of good society. 
The beginning of the service partially ended my 
uneasiness, for I had no hymn-book, — the pew con- 
tained none, — so Miss Mayton kindly offered me a 
share in her own. And yet so faultlessly perfect and 
stranger-like was her manner that I wondered whether 
her action might not have been prompted merely by a 
sense of Christian duty ; had I been the Khan of Tartary 
she could not have been more polite and frigid. The 
music to the first hymn was an air I had never heard 
before, so I stumbled miserably through the tenor, 
although Mjss Mayton rendered the soprano without a 
single false note. The sermon was longer than I waf 
in the habit of listening to, and I was frequently con- 


HELENAS BABIES, 


79 


ficious of not listening at all. As for my position and 
appearance, neither ever seemed so insignificant as 
they did throughout the entire sei-vice. 

The minister reached ''And finally, dear brethren,^ 
with my earnest prayers for a successful and speedy 
finale. It seemed to me that the congregation sym- 
pathized with me, for there was a general rustle behind 
me as these words were spoken. It soon became 
evident, however, that the hearers were moved by 
some other feeling, for I heard a profound titter or two 
behind me. Even Miss Mayton turned her head with 
more alacrity than was consistent with that grace which 
usually characterized her motions, and the minister 
himself made a pause of unusual length. I turned in 
my seat, and saw my nephew Budge, dressed in his 
best, his head irreverently covered, and his new cane 
swinging in the most stylish manner. He paused at 
each pew, carefully surveyed its occupants, seemed to 
fail in finding the object of his search, but continued 
his efforts in spite of my endeavors to catch his eye. 
Finally, he recognized a family acquaintance, and to 
him he unburdened his bosom by remarking, in tones 
easily heard throughout the church : — 


60 


HELENAS BABIES. 


”I want to find my uncle.” 

Just then he caught my eye, smiled rapturously, 
hurried to me, and laid his rascally soft cheek confid- 
ingly against mine, while an audible sensation pervaded 
the church. What to do or say to him I scarcely 
knew ; but my quandary was turned to wonder, as 
IVIiss Ma3i;on, her face full of ill-repressed mirth, but 
her eyes full of tenderness, drew the little scamp close 
to her, and kissed him soundly. At the same instant, 
the minister, not without some little hesitation, said, 
” Let us pray.” I hastily bowed my head, glad of a 
chance to hide my face ; but as I stole a glance at the 
cause of this irreligious disturbance, I caught JVIiss 
Mayton’s eye. She was laughing so violently that the 
contagion was imavoidable, and I laughed all the harder 
as I felt that one mischievous boy had undone the 
niischief caused by another. 

After the benediction. Budge was the recipient of a 
great deal of attention, during the confusion of which, 
I embraced the opportunity to say to Miss Mayton : — 

” Do you still sustain my sister in her opinion of my 
nephews, JVIiss Mayton?” 

I think they’re too funny for anything,” replied the 


RELENTS BABIES, 


81 


lady, with great enthusiasm. do wish you would 
bring them to call upon me. I'm longing to see an 
original young gentleman.” 

** Thank you,” said I. ” And I’ll have Toddie bring 
a bouquet by way of atonement.” 

” Do,” she replied, as I allowed her to pass from the 
pew. The word was an insignificant one, but it made 
me happy once more. 

**You see, Uncle Harry,” exclaimed Budge, as we 
left the church together, ”the Sunday school wasn’t 
open yet, an’ I wanted to hear if they’d sing again in 
church ; so I came in, an’ you wasn’t in papa’s seat, an* 
I knew you was somewhere, so I looked for you.” 

” Bless you,” thought I, snatching him into my arms 
as if to hurry him into Sabbath school, but really to 
give him a kiss of grateful affection, ” you did right — 
exactly right.” 

My Sunday dinner was unexceptional in point of 
quantity and quality, and a bottle of my brother-in- 
law’s claret proved to be most excellent ; yet a certain 
uneasiness of mind prevented my enjoying the meal as 
thoroughly as under other circumstances I might have 
done. My imeasiness came of a mingled sense of 
8 


82 


belen's babies. 


responsibility and ignorance. I felt that it was the 
proper thing foi me to see that my nephews spent the 
day with some sense of the requirements and duties of 
tlie Sabbath ; but how I was to bring it about, I hardly 
knew. The boys were too small to have Bible-lessons 
administered to them, and they were too lively to be 
kept quiet by any ordinary means. After a great deal 
of thought, I determined to consult the children them- 
selves, and try to learn what their parents’ custom had 
been. 

” Budge,” said I, "what do you do Sundays when 
your papa and mamma are home ? What do they read 
to you, — what do they talk about ? ” 

"Oh, they swing us — lots I” said Budge, with 
brightening eyes. 

"An’ zey takes us to get jacks,” observed Toddie. 

"Oh, yes I” exclaimed Budge; " jacks-in-the-pulpit 
— don’t you know ? ” 

" Hum — ye — es ; I do remember some such thing 
in my youthful days. They grow where there’s plenty 
of mud, don’t they ? ” 

"Yes, an’ there’s a brook there, an’ ferns, an’ birch* 


HELENAS BABIES. 


83 


bark, an’ if you don’t look out you’ll tumble into the 
brook when you go to get birch.” 

'^An’ we goes to Ilawksnest Rock,” piped Toddie, 
an’ papa carries us up on his back when we gets tired.” 

” An’ he makes us whistles,” said Budge. 

” Budge,” said I, rather hastily, "enough. In the 
language of the poet 

* These earthly pleasures I resign,’ 
and I’m rather astonished that your papa hasn’t taught 
you to do likewise. Don’t he ever read to you?” 

"Oh, yes,” cried Budge, clapping his hands, as a 
happy thought struck him. " lie gets down the Bible 
— the great big Bible, you know — an’ we all lay on 
the floor, an’ he reads us stories out of it. There’s 
David, an’ Noah, an’ when Christ was a little boy, an’ 
Joseph, an’ turnbackPharo’sarmy hallelujah — ” 

" And what ? ” 

"TurnbackPharo’sarmyhallelujah,” repeated Budge. 
" Don’t you know how Moses held out his cane over 
the Red Sea, an’ the water went way up one side, an’ 
way up the other side, and all the Isrulites went 
across ? It’s just the same thing as dro 24 ; 7 ioldI^hari ’s- 
armyhallelujah — don’t you know ? ” 


Bi 


HELEN'S BABIES, 


” Budge,” said I, ”I suspect you of having heard the 
Jubilee Singers.” 

" Oh, and papa and mamma sings us all those Jubilee 
Bongs — there's * Swing Low,’ an’ *Roll Jordan,’ an’ 
'Steal Away,’ an’ *My Way’s Cloudy,’ an’ 'Get on 
Board, Child uns,’ an’ lots. "An’ you can sing us 
every one of ’em.” 

" An’ papa takes us in the woods, an’ makesh us 
canes,” said Toddie# 

"Yes,” said Budge, "and where there’s new houses 
buildin’, he takes us up ladders.” 

"Has he any way of putting an extension on the 
afternoon ? ” I asked. 

"I don’t know what that is,” said Budge, "but he 
puts an’ India-rubber blanket on the grass, and then 
we all lie down an’ make b’lieve we’re soldiers asleep. 
Only sometimes when we wake up papa stays asleep, 
an’ mamma won’t let us wake him. I don’t think that’s 
a very nice play.” 

"Well, I think Bible stories are nicer than anything 
else, don’t you?” 

Budge seemed somewhat in doubt. " I think 
swingin’ is nicer,” said he — " oh, no ; — let^s get some 


BELBN^a BABIES. 


85 


jacks — Pll tell you what I — make us whistles, an* we 
can blow on* em while we*re goin* to get the jacks, 
Toddie, dear, wouldn’t you like jacks and whistles?** 

”Yesh — an* swingin* — an* birch — an’ wantsh to 
go to Hawksnesh Kock,** answered Toddie. 

" Let’s have Bible stories fii’st,” said I. " The Lord 
mightn’t bke it if you didn’t learn anything good 
to-day.** 

”Well,** said Budge, with the regulation religious- 
matter-of-duty face, "let’s. I guess I like ’bout 
Joseph best.** 

" Tell us* bout Bliaff,** suggested Toddie. 

"Oh, no. Tod,** remonstrated Budge; "Joseph’s 
coat was just as bloody as Goliath’s head was.” Then 
Budge turned to me and explained that " all Tod likes 
Goliath for is ’cause when his . head was cut off it was 
all bloody.” And then Toddie — the airy sprite whom 
his mother described as being irresistibly drawn to 
whatever was beautiful — Toddie glared upon me as a 
butcher’s apprentice might stare at a doomed lamb, and 
remarked : — 

" Blialf 8 head was all bluggy, an* David’s sword was 
all bluggy — bluggy as everyfing.” 


86 


HELENAS BABIES. 


1 hastily breathed a small prayer, opened the Bible, 
turned to the story of Joseph, and audibly condensed 
it as I read : — 

"Joseph was a good little boy whose papa loved him 
very dearly. But his brothers didn’t like him. And 
they sold him, to go to Egypt. And he was very 
smart, and told people what their dreams meant, and 
he got to be a great man. And his brothers went to 
Egypt to buy com, and Joseph sold them some, and 
then he let them know who he was. And he sent them 
home to bring their papa to Egypt, and then they all 
lived there together.” 

"That ain’t it,” remarked Toddie, with the air of a 
man who felt himself to be unjustly treated. " Is it, 
Budge?” 

" Oh, no,” said Budge, " you didn’t read it good a 
bit ; ril tell you how it is. Once there was a little boy 
named Joseph, an’ he had eleven budders — they was 
awful eleven budders. An’ his papa gave him a new 
coat, an’ his budders hadn’t nothin’ but their old jack- 
ets to wear. An’ one day he was carryin’ ’em their 
dinner, an’ they put him in a deep, dark hole, but 
they didn’t put his nice new coat in — they killed a 


HELEN'S BABIES, 


87 


kid, an’ dipped the coat — just think of doin’ that to a 
nice new coat — they dipped it in the kid’s blood, an’ 
made it all bloody.” 

All bluggy,” echoed Toddie, with ferocious em- 
phasis. Budge continued : — 

” But there were some Ishmalites cornin’ aloug that 
way, and the awful eleven budders took him out of the 
deep dark hole, an’ sold him to the Ishmalites, an’ 
they sold him away down in Egypt. An’ his poor old 
papa cried, an’ cried, an’ cried, cause he thought a big 
lion ate Joseph up; but he wasn’t ate up a bit; but 
there wasn’t no post-office nor choochoos,* nor stages 
in Egypt, an’ there wasn’t any telegraphs, so Joseph 
couldn’t let his papa know where he was ; an’ he got 
so smart an’ so good that the king of Egypt let him 
sell all the corn an’ take care of the money ; an’ one 
aay some men came to buy some corn, an’ Joseph 
looked at em’ an’ there they was his own budders ! 
An’ he scared ’em like ever}i:hiiig ; Fd have dapped 
’em all if Fd been Joseph, but he just scared ’em, 
an’ then he let ’em know who he was, an’ he kissed 
em’ an’ he didn’t whip ’em, or make ’em go without 


Railway cars. 


88 


SSLEX^S BABLKS. 


their breakfast, or stand in a comer, noi none of them 
things ; an’ then he sent ’em back for their papa, an’ 
when he saw his papa cornin’, he ran like every thing, 
and gave him a great big hug and a kiss. Joseph was 
too big to ask his papa if he’d brought him any candy, 
but he was awful glad to see him. An’ the king gave 
Joseph’s papa a nice farm, an’ they all had real good 
times after that.” 

” ^Vnd they dipped the coat in the blood, an’ made it 
all bluggy,” reiterated Toddie. 

"Uncle Harry,” said Budge, "what do you t hink 
fwy papa would do if he thought I was all ate up by 
a lion? I guess he’d cry awfid^ don’t you? Now 
tell us another story — oh, FU tell you — read us 
'bout — ” 

" ’Bout Bliaff,” intermpted Toddie. 

" You tell me about him, Toddie,” said I. 

" Wh} ,” said Toddie, " Bliaff was a brate bid man, 
an’ Dave was brate little man, an’ Bliaff said, * Come over 
here’n an’ PH eat you up,’ an’ Dave said, ain’t fyaid 
of you.’ So Dave put five little stones in a sling an’ 
asked de Lord to help him, an’ let ze sling go bang 
into bequeen Bliaffs eyes an’ knocked him down dead, 


HELENAS BASIES. 


89 


an’ Dave took Bliaflrs sword an’ sworded BliafiPs head 
off, an’ made it all bluggy, an’ Bliaff runned away.” 
This short narration was accompanied by more spirited 
and unexpected gestures than Mr. Gough ever puts 
into a long lecture. ^ 

” I don’t like ’bout Gobath at all,” remarked Budge. 
'' Td bke to hear ’bout Ferns.” 

”Who?” 

Ferns ; don’t you know ? ” 

” Never heard of him. Budge.” 

” Why — y — y — I ” exclaimed Budge ; didn’t you 
have no jDapa when you was a little boy ? ” 

Yes, but he never told me about any one named 
Ferus ; there’s no such person named in Anthon’s Clas- 
sical Dictionary, either. Wkat sort of a man was he ? ” 
WTiy, once there was a man, an’ his name was Ferus 
— Q/Terus, an’ he went about fightin’ for kings, but when 
any king got afraid of anybody, he wouldn’t fight for 
him no more. An’ one day he couldn’t find no kings 
that wasn’t afraid of nobody. An’ the people told 
him the Lord was the biggest king in the world, an 
be wasn’t afraid of nobody nor nothing. An’ he asked 
’em where he could find the Lord, and they said he 


90 


RELENTS BABIES, 


wa3 way up in heaven so nobody couldn’t see him but 
the angels, but he liked folks to worh for him instead 
of fight. So Ferus wanted to know what kind of work 
he could do, an’ the people said there was a river not 
far off, TV here there wasn’t no ferry-boats, cos the 
water run so fast, an’ they guessed if he’d carry folks 
across, the Lord would like it. So Ferus went there, 
an’ he cut him a good, strong cane, an’ whenever any 
body wanted to go across the river he’d carry ’em on 
his back. 

” One night he was sittin’ in his little house by the 
fire, and smokin’ his pipe an’ readin’ the paper, an’ 
’twas rainin’ an’ blowin’ an’ hailin’ an’ storniin,’ an’ he 
was so glad there wasn’t anybody wantin’ to go ’cross 
the river, when he heard somebody call out " Ferus I 
An’ he looked out the window, but he couldn’t see 
nobody, so he sat down again. Then somebody called 
” Ferus I” again, and he opened the door again, an’ 
there was a little bit of a boy, ’bout as big as Toddie. 
An’ Ferus said, ^ Hello, young felloTV, does your 
mother know you’re out?’ An’ the little boy said, 
'1 want to go ’cross the river.’ — 'Well,’ says Ferus, 
* you’re a mighty little fellow to be travoUin alone, but 


HELEN S BABIES. 


91 


hop up.’ So the little boy jumped up on Ferus’s 
back, and Ferus walked into the water. Oh, my — 
wasnH it cold ? An’ every step he took that little boy 
got heavier, so Ferus nearly tumbled down an’ they 
liked to both got drownded. An’ when they got 
across the river Ferus said, * Well, you are the heavi- 
est small fry I ever carried,’ an’ he turned around to 
look at him, an ’twasn’t no little boy at all — ’twas a 
big man — ’twas Christ. An’ Christ said, ^ Ferus, I 
heard you was tr^nn’ to work for me, so I thought I’d 
come down an’ see you, an’ not let you know who I 
was. An’ now you shall have a new name ; you shall 
be called (7/^r^5^offerus, cos that means Christ-canler.’ 
An’ everybody called him Christofferus after that, an’ 
when he died they called him Saint Christopher, cos 
Saint is what they call good people when they’re 
dead.” 

Budge himself had the face of a rapt saint as he 
told this story, but my contemplation of his counte- 
nance was suddenly arrested by Toddie, who, disap- 
proving of the unexciting nature of his brother’s 
recital, had strayed into the garden, investigated a 
hornet’s nest, been stung, and set up a piercing shriek. 


92 


HELENAS BABIES, 


He ran in to me, and as I hastily picked him up, h© 
sobbed : — 

^Want to be wocked."^ Want 'Toddie one boy 
day/” 

I rocked him violently, and petted him tenderly, 
but again he sobbed : — 

** Want ’Toddie one boy day/” 

What does the child mean ? ” I exclaimed. 

”He wants you to sing to him about * Charley boy 
one day,’ ” said Budge. ” He always wants mamma to 
sing that when he’s hurt, an’ then he stops crying.” 

”I don’t know it,” said I. ” Won’t *Eoll, Jordan,’ 
do, Toddie?” 

"i’ZZ tell you how it goes,” said Budge, and forth- 
with the youth sang the following song, a line at a 
time, I following him in words and air ; — 

“ Where is my little bastik * gone P ” 

Said Charley, one boy day ; 

“ I guess some little boy or girl 
Has taken it away. 


♦ Rocked. 


* Basket. 


MELEN^S BABIES. 


98 


** An’ kittie, too — where ish she gone f 
Oh dear, what I shall do P 
I wish I could my bastik find, 

An’ little kittie, too. 

“ I’ll go to mamma’s room an’ look ; 

Perhaps she may be there ; 

For kittie likes to take a nap 
In mamma’s easy chair. 

** O mamma, mamma, come an’ look! 

See what a little heap ! 

Here’s kittie in the bastik here, 

All cuddled down to sleep.” 

Where the applicability of this poem to my nephew’s 
peculiar trouble appeared, I could not see, but as I 
finished it, his sobs gave place to a sigh of relief. 
”Toddie,” said I, " do you love your Uncle Hany?” 
** Esh, I do love you.” 

” Then tell me how that ridiculous song comforts 
you?” 

” Makes me feel good, an’ all nicey,” replied Toddie. 
'' Wouldn’t you feel just as good if I sang, * Plunged 
in a gulf of dark despair ’ ? ” 


94 


HELENAS BABIES, 


’’No, don’t like dokdishpairs ; if a dokdishpair done 
anyfing to me, I’d knock it right down dead.” 

With this extremely lucid remark, our conversation 
on this particular subject ended ; but I wondered, dur- 
ing a few uneasy moments, whether the temporary 
mental aberration which had once afflicted Helen’s 
grandfather and mine was not reappearing in this, his 
youngest descendant. My wondering was cut short 
by Budge, who remarked, in a confident tone : — 

”Now, Uncle Harry, we’ll have the whistles, I 
guess. 

I acted upon the suggestion, and led the way to the 
woods. I had not had occasion to seek a hickory sap- 
ling before for years ; not since the war, in fact, when I 
learned how hot a fire small hickory sticks would 
make. I had not sought wood for whistles since — • 
gracious, nearly a quarter of a century ago I The 
dissimilar associations called up by these recollection? 
threatened to put me in a frame of mind which might 
have resulted in a bad poem, had not my nephews kept 
up a lively succession of questions such as no one but 
children can ask. The whistles completed, I was 
marched, with music, to the place where the "jacks” 


RJSLEN^S BABIES. 


95 


grew. It was just such a place as boys instinctively 
delight in — low, damp, and boggy, with a brook hid- 
ing treacherously away under overhanging ferns and 
grasses. The children knew by sight the plant which 
bore the "jacks,” and every discovery was announced 
by a piercing shriek of delight. At first I looked hui- 
riedly toward the brook as each yell clove the air ; but, 
as I became accustomed to it, my attention was di- 
verted by some exquisite ferns. Suddenly, however, 
a succession of shrieks announced that something was 
wrong, and across a large fern I saw a small face in a 
great deal of agony. Budge was hurrying to the 
relief of his brother, and was soon as deeply imbedded 
as Toddie was in the rich black mud, at the bottom of 
the brook. I dashed to the rescue, stood astride the 
brook, and ofiered a hand to each boy, when a treach- 
erous tuft of grass gave way, and, with a glorious 
splash, I went in myself. This accident turned Tod- 
die’s sorrow to laughter, but 1 can’t say 1 made light 
of my misfortune on that account. To fall into clean 
water is not pleasant, even when one is trout-fishing; 
but to be clad in white pants, and suddenly drop 
nearly knee-deep in the lap of mother Earth is quite a 


96 


HELEN S BABIES, 


different thing. I hastily picked up the children, and 
threw them upon the bank, and then wrathfully strode 
out myself, and tried to shake myself as I have seen 
a Newfoundland dog do. The shake was not a success 
— it caused my trouser-leg to flap dismally about my 
ankles, and sent the streams of loathsome ooze trick- 
ling down into my shoes. My hat, of drab felt, had 
fallen off by the brookside, and been plentifully spat- 
tered as I got out. I looked at my youngest nephew 
with speechless indignation. 

** Uncle Harry,” said Budge, ” 'twas real good of the 
Lord to let you be with us, else Toddie might have 
been drownded.” 

” Yes,” said I, ”and 1 shouldn't have much — ” 

" Ocken Hawwy,” cried Toddie, running impetuously 
toward me, pulling me down, and patting my cheek 
with his muddy black hand, ” I loves you for takin^ me 
out de water.” 

accept your apology,” said I, ”but let’s hurry 
home.” There was but one residence to pass, and that, 
thank fortune, was so densely screened by shrubbery 
that the inmates could not see the road. To be sure, 
we were on a favorite driving-road, but we could reach 


Helen's babies* 


97 


home in five minutes, and we might dodge into the 
woods if we heard a carriage coming. Ha I There 
came a carriage already, and we — was there ever a 
Borricr-looking group ? There were ladies in the car 
riage, too — could it be — of course it was — did the 
evil spirit, which guided those children always, send an 
attendant for Miss Mayton before he began operations ? 
There she was, anyway — cool, neat, dainty, trying to 
look collected, but severely flushed by the attempt. 
It was of no use to drop my eyes, for she had already 
recognized me ; so I turned to her a face which I think 
must have been just the one — unless more defiant — 
that I carried into two or three cavalry charges. 

"You seem to have been having a real good time 
together,” said she, with a conventional smile, as the 
carriage passed. " Eemember, you’re all going to call 
on me to-morrow afternoon.” 

Bless the girl 1 Her heart was as quick as her eyes 
— almost any other young lady would have devoted 
her entire energy to laughing on such an occasion, but 
she took her earliest opportunity to make me feel at 
ease. Such a royal-hearted woman deserves to — I 
caught myself just here, with my cheeks growing 
7 


98 


HELEN* S BABIES. 


quite hot under the mud Toddie had put on them, and 
I led our retreat with a more stylish carriage than my 
appearance could possibly have warranted, and then I 
consigned my nephews to the maid with very much the 
air of an officer turning over a large number of pris- 
oners he had captured. I hastily changed my soiled 
clothing for my best — not that I expected to see any 
one, but because of a sudden increase in the degree of 
respect I felt toward myself. When the children were 
put to bed, and 1 had no one but my thoughts for com- 
panions, I spent a delightful hour or two in imagining 
as possible some changes of which I had never dared to 
think before. 

On Monday morning I was in the garden at sun- 
rise. Toddie was to carry his expiatory bouquet to 
Miss Mayton that day, and I proposed that no pains 
should be spared to make his atonement as handsome 
as possible. I canvassed carefully every border, bed, 
and detached flowering plant until I had as accurate an 
idea of their possibilities as if I had inventoried the 
flowers in pen and ink. This done, I consulted the 
servant as to the imsoiled clothing of my nephews. 
Sho laid out their entire wardrobe for my inapection, 


HELENAS BA£IE!g. 


99 


and after a rigid examination of everything I selected 
the suits which the boys were to wxar in the afternoon. 
Then I told the girl that the boys were going with me 
after dinner to call on some ladies, and that I desired 
that she should -wash and dress them carefully. 

**Tell me just what time you’ll start, sir, and I’ll 
begin an hour beforehand,” said she. "That’s the 
only way to be sure that they don’t disgrace you.” 

For breakfast we had, among other things, some 
stewed oysters served in soup-plates. 

"O Todd,” shrieked Budge, "there’s the turtle- 
plates again — oh, aint I glad I ” 

" Go — ee — turtle-pyates,” squealed Toddie. 

"T\Tiat on earth do you mean, boys?” I demanded. 
"i’ZZ show you,” said Budge, jumping dowm from his 
chair and bringing his pbite of oysters cautiously 
toward me. "Now you just put your head down 
underneath my plate, and look up, and you’ll see a 
turtle.” 

For a moment I forgot that I was not at a restaurant, 
and I took the plate, held it up, and examined its 
bottom. 

" There 1” said Budge, pointing to the trade-mark. 


100 


HELENAS BABIES. 


in colors, of the makers of the crockery, ** don’t you 
see the turtle ? ” 

I abruptly ordered Budge to his seat, unmoved even 
by Toddie’s remark, that — 

"Dey ish turtles, but dey can’t kwawl awound like 
udder tmtles.” 

After breakfast I devoted a great deal of fussy 
attention to myself. Never did my own wardrobe 
seem so meagre and ill-assorted; never did I cut 
myself so many times while shaving ; never did I use 
such unsatisfactory shoe-polish. I finally gave up in 
despair my eflbrt to appear genteel, and devoted 
myself to the bouquet. I cut almost flowers enough 
to dress a church, and then remorselessly excluded 
every one which was in the least particular imperfect. 
In making the bouquet I enjoyed the benefit of my 
nephews’ assistance and counsel, and took enforced 
part in conversation which flowers suggested. 

” Ocken Hawwy,” said Toddie, ” ish heaven all like 
this, wif pretty fowers? Cos I don’t see what ze 
angels ever turns out for if ’tis.” 

” Un>3le Harry,” said Budge, ” when the leaves all go 


HELENAS BABIES. 


10 ] 


up and down and wriggle around so, are they talking 
to the wind ? ” 

— I guess so, old fellow.” 

”Who are you making that bouquet for. Uncle 
Harry?” asked Budge. 

”For a lady — for IMiss Mayton — that lady that 
saw us all muddy yesterday afternoon,” said I. 

" Oh, I like her,” said Budge. ” She looks so nice 
and pretty — just like a cake — just as if she was good 
to eat — oh, I just love her, don’t you? ” 

" Well, I respect her very highly. Budge.” 

** ’Spect ? What does ’spect mean ? ” 

” Why, it means that I think she’s a lady — a real 
pleasant lady — just the nicest sort of lady in the 
world — the sort of person I’d like to see every day, 
and like to see her better than any one else.” 

" Oh, why, ’spect an’ love means just the same thing, 
don’t they. Uncle liar — ” 

” Budge,” I exclaimed, somewhat hastily, ”run ask 
Maggie for a piece of string — quick I ” 

"All right,” said Budge, moving off, "but they eZo, 
don’t they ? ” 

At two o’clock I instructed Maggie to dress my 


102 


HELEN'S BABIES, 


nephews, and at three we started to make our call. 
To caiTV Toddie’s bouquet, and hold a hand of each 
boy so to keep them from darting into the hedges for 
grasshoppers, and the gutters for butterflies, was no 
easy work, but I managed to do it. As we approached 
]\Irs. Clarkson’s boarding-house I felt my hat was over 
one ear, and my cravat awry, but there was no oppor- 
tunity to rearrange them, for I saw Alice Ma 3 d:on on 
the piazza, and felt that she saw me. Handing the 
bouquet to Toddie, and promising him three sticks of 
candy if he would be careful and not drop it, we en- 
tered the garden. The moment we were inside the 
hedge and Toddie saw a man going over the lawn with 
a lawn-mower, he shrieked : ” Oh, deresh a cutter- 
grass 1 ” and dropped the bouquet with the carelessness 
born of perfect ecstasy. I snatched it before it reached 
the ground, dragged the ofiending youth up the walk, 
saluted Miss Mayton, and told Toddie to give the 
bouquet to the lady. This ho succeeded in doing, but 
as hiiss Ma}i:on thanked him and stooped to kiss him 
be wriggled off the piazza like a little eel, shouted, 
” Turn on 1 ” to his brother, and a moment later my 


HELENAS BABIES. 


103 


Qephews were following the ^'cutter-grass” at a 
respectful distance in the rear. 

"Those are my sister’s best children in the world, 
Miss Mayton,” said I. 

" Bless the little darlings ! ” replied the lady ; " I do 
love to see children enjoying themselves.” 

"So do I,” said I, "when I’m not responsible for 
their well-being ; but if the effort I’ve expended on those 
boys had been directed toward the interests of my 
employers, those worthy gentlemen would consider me 
invaluable.” 

JMiss Ma^don made some witty reply, and we settled 
to a pleasant chat about mutual acquaintances, about 
books, pictures, music, and the gossip of our set. I 
would cheerfully have discussed Herbert Spencer’s sys- 
tem, the Assyrian Tablets, or any other dry subject 
with Miss Mayton, and felt that I was richly repaid by 
the pleasure of seeing her. Handsome, intelligent, 
composed, tastefully dressed, without a suspicion of 
the fiiit or the languid woman of fashion about her, she 
awakened to the uttermost every admiring sentiment 
and every manly feeling. But, alas I my enjoyment 
was probably more than I deserved, so it was cut 


104 


Helen's babies* 


shoi't. There were other ladies boarding at Mrs. 
Clarkson^s, and, as Miss Mayton truthfully observed at 
our first meeting, men were very scarce at Ilillcrest. 
So the ladies, by the merest accident, of course, hap- 
pened upon the piazza, and each one was presented to 
me, and common civility made it impossible for me to 
speak to Miss Mayton more than once in ten minutes. 
At any other time and place I should have found the 
meeting of so many ladies a delightful experience, but 
now — 

Suddenly a compound shriek arose from the lawn, 
and all the ladies sprang to their feet. I followed their 
example, setting my teeth firmly and viciously, hoping 
that whichever nephew had been hurt was badly hurt. 
We saw Toddie running toward us with one hand in 
his mouth, while Budge ran beside him, exclaiming : — 

" Poor little Toddie I Don’t cry I Does it hurt you 
awful? Never mind — Uncle Harry’ll comfort you. 
Don’t cry, Toddie c?e-ar I ” 

Both boys reached the piazza steps, and clambered 
uj>. Budge exclaiming ; — 

”0 Uncle Harry, Toddie put his fingers in the 


HELEN"* S BABIES. 


105 


little wheels of the cutter-grass, an’ it turned just the 
least little biddie, an’ it hurted him.” 

But Toddie ran up to me, clasped my legs, and 
sobbed. 

Sing * Toddie one boy day.’ ” 

My blood seemed to freeze. I could have choked 
that dreadful child, suffering though he was. I stooped 
over him, caressed him, promised him candy, took out 
my watch and gave it to him to play with, but he 
returned to his original demand. A lady — the home- 
liest in the party — suggested that she should bind up 
his hand, and I inwardly blessed her, but he reiterated 
his request for "Toddie one boy day,” and sobbed 
pitifully. 

" What does he mean ? ” asked Miss May ton. 

" He wants Uncle Harry to sing, ' Charley boy one 
day,’ ” explained Budge ; " he always wants that song 
when he’s hurt any way.” 

" Oh, do sing it to him, Mr. Burton,” pleaded Miss 
May ton ; and all the other ladies exclaimed, " Oh, do I ” 

I wrathfully picked him up in my arms, and hummed 
the air of the detested song. 

" Sit in a wockin’-chair,” sobbed Toddie* 


106 


HELENAS BABIES. 


I obeyed ; and then my tormentor remarked : — 

” You don’t sing the wydes (words), — I wants the 
wydes.” 

I sang the words as softly as possible, with my lips 
close to his ear, but he roared : — 

*'Sing louder.” 

” I don’t know anymore of it, Toddie,” I exclaimed in 
desperation. 

" Oh, I’ll tell it all to you, Uncle Harry,” said Budge. 
And there, before that audience, and her, I was obliged 
to sing that dreadful doggrel, line for line, as Budge 
repeated it. My teeth were set tight, my brow grew 
clammy, and I gazed upon Toddie with terrible thoughts 
in my mind. No one laughed — I grew so desperate 
that a titter would have given relief. At last I heard 
some one whisper : — 

** See how he loves him I Poor man I — he’s in per- 
fect agony over the little fellow.” 

Had not the song reached its natural end just then, I 
believe I should have tossed my wounded nephew over 
the piazza rail. As it was, I set him upon his feet, an- 
nounced the necessity of our departure, and began to 


HELENAS BABIES, 


107 


tilke leave, when Miss Mayton’s mother insisted that we 
should stay to dinner. 

” For myself, I should be delighted, Mrs. May ton,” 
eaid I ; " but my nephews have hardly learned company 
manners yet. I’m afraid my sister wouldn’t forgive me 
if she heard I had taken them out to dinner.” 

" Oh, I’ll take care of the little dears,” said Miss 
May ton; ” they’ll be good with me, I knoio,^^ 

”I couldn’t be so unkind as to let you try it. Miss 
Mayton,” I replied. But she insisted, and the pleasure 
of submitting to her will was so great that I would have 
risked even greater mischief. So !Miss Mayton sat down 
to dinner with Budge upon one side and Toddie on the 
other, while I was fortunately placed opposite, from 
which position I could indulge in warning winks and 
frowns. The soup was served. I signalled the boys 
to tuck their napldns under their chins, and then 
turned to speak to the lady on my right. She politely 
inclined her head toward me, but her thoughts 
seemed elsewhere ; following her eyes, I beheld my 
youngest nephew with his plate upraised in both handr, 
his head on the table-cloth, and his eyes turned paii- 
fully upward. I dared not speak, for fear he would 


108 


HELENAS BABIES, 


drop tho plate. Suddenly he withdrew his head, put on 
an angelic smile, tilted his plate so part of its contents 
sought refuge in the folds of Miss Mayton^s dainty, 
snowy dress, while the offender screamed : — 

" Oo — ee 1 — zha turtle on my pyate I — Budgie, 
zha turtle on my pyate I ” 

Budge was about to raise his plate when he caught 
my eye and desisted. Poor Miss Mayton actually 
looked discomposed for the first time in her life, so far 
as I knew or could imagine. She recovered quickly, 
however, and treated that wretched boy with the most 
Christian forbearance and consideration during the re- 
mainder of the meal. When the dessert was finished 
she quickly excused herself, while I removed Toddie 
to a secluded corner of the piazza, and favored him 
with a lecture which caused him to howl pitifully, and 
compelled me to caress him and undo all the good 
which my rebukes had done. Then he and Budge re- 
moved themselves to the lawn, while I awaited Miss 
Mayton’s reappearance, to offer an apology for Toddie, 
and to make our adieus. It was the custom of the 
ladies at Mrs. Clarkson’s to stroll about the lovely 
rural walks after dinner and until twilight ; and on this 


HELENAS BABIES. 


109 


particular evening they departed in twos and threes, 
leaving me to make my apology without witnesses. I 
was rather sorry they went; it was not pleasant to 
feel that I was principally responsible for my nephews’ 
blunder, and to have no opportunity to allay my con- 
science-pangs by conversation. It seemed to me Miss 
Mayton was forever in appearing ; I even called up my 
nephews to have some one to talk to. 

Suddenly she appeared, and in an instant I fervently 
blessed Toddie and the soup which the child had sent 
upon its aimless wanderings. I would rather pay the 
price of a fine dress than try to describe Miss Mayton’s 
attire; I can only say that in style, color and 
ornament it became her perfectly, and set off the 
beauties of a face which I had never before thought 
was more than pleasing and intelligent. Perhaps the 
anger which was excusable after Toddie’s graceless 
caper had something to do with puttmg unusual color 
into her cheeks, and a brighter sparkle than usual in 
her eyes. Whatever was the cause, she looked 
queenly, and I half imagined that I detected in her 
face a gleam of satisfaction at the involuntary start 
which her unexpected appearance caused me to make. 


no 


helen'^s babies* 


She accepted my apology for Toddie >71111 queenly 
graciousness, and then, instead of proposing that we 
should follow the other ladies, as a moment before I 
had hoped she would, she dropped into a chair. I 
accepted the invitation ; the children should have been 
in bed half an hour before, but my sense of responsi- 
bility had departed when Miss Mayton appeared. The 
little scamps were safe until they should perform some 
new and unexpected act of impishness. They retired 
to one end of the piazza, and busied themselves in ex- 
periments upon a large Newfoundland dog, while I, 
the happiest man alive, talked to the glorious woman 
before me, and enjoyed the spectacle of her radiant 
beauty. The twilight came and deepened, but imagi- 
nation prevented the vision from fading. With the 
coming of the darkness and the starlight, our voices 
unconsciously dropped to lower tones, and her voice 
seemed purest music. And yet we said nothing wliich 
all the world might not have listened to without sus- 
pecting a secret. The ladies returned in little groups, 
but either out of womanly intuition or in answer to mj^ 
unspoken but fervent prayers, passed us and went into 
the house. I was affected by an odd mixture of des- 


HELENAS BABIES. 


Ill 


perate courage and despicable cowardice. I deter- 
mined to tell her all, yet I shrank from the task with 
more terror than ever befell me in the first steps of a 
charge. 

Suddenly a small shadow came from behind us and 
stood between us, and the voice of Budge remarked : — 

" Uncle Harry ’spects you. Miss Mayton.” 

"Suspects me? — of what, pray?” exclaimed the 
lady, patting my nephew’s cheek. 

" Budge 1 ” said I — I feel that my voice rose nearly 
to a scream — "Budge, I must beg of you to respect 
the sanctity of confidential communications.” 

"What is it. Budge?” persisted IMiss Mayton, "you 
know the old adage, jMr. Burton : * Children and fools 
speak the truth.’ Of what does he suspect me, 
Budge ? ” 

" ’Taint 5w«-spect at all,” said Budge, "it’s es-spect.’ 

" Expect ? ” echoed Miss Mayton. 

"No, not 'ex,’ it’s es-spect. I know all about it, 
’cause I asked him. Espect is w^hat folks do when they 
think you’re nice, and like to talk to you, and — ” 

"liespect is what the boy is tr 3 dng to say, Ms 
Mayton,” I interrupted, to prevent what I feared might 


112 


HELENAS BABIES, 


follow. ” Budge has a terrifying faculty for askiug 
questions, and the result of some of them, this morn- 
ing, was my endeavor to explain to him the nature of 
the respect in which gentlemen hold ladies.” 

"Yes,” continued Budge, "I know all about it. 
Only Uncle Harry don’t say it right. What he call 
espect I calls Zove.” 

There was an awkward pause — it seemed an age. 
Another blunder, and all on account of those dreadful 
children. I could think of no possible way to turn the 
conversation ; stranger yet. Miss Mayton could not do 
so either. Something must be done — I could at least 
be honest, come what would — I would be honest. 

" Miss Mayton,” said I, hastily, earnestly, but in a 
very low tone, "Budge is a marplot, but he is a truthful 
interpreter for all that. But whatever my fate may be, 
please do not suspect me of falling suddenly into love 
for a holiday’s diversion. My malady is of some 
months’ standing. I — ” 

"/want to talk some,” observed Budge. "You talk 
all the whole time. I — I — when I loves anybody I 
kisses them.” 

Miss Mayton gave a little start, and my thoughts 


HELENAS BABIES. 


113 


followed each other with unimagined rapidity. She 
did not turn the conversation — it could not he possible 
that she could not. She was not angry, or she would 
have expressed herself. Could it be that — 

I bent over her and acted upon Budge’s suggestion. 
As she displayed no resentment, I pressed my lips a 
second time to her forehead, then she raised her head 
slightly, and I saw;, in spite of darkness and shadows, 
that Alice M'a^don had surrendered at discretion. 
Taking her hand and straightening myself to my full 
height, I offered to the Lord more fervent thanks than 
he ever heard from me in church. Then I heard 
Budge say, ” I wants to kiss you, too, ’ and I saw my 
glorious Alice snatch the little scamp into her arms, 
and treat him with more affection than 1 ever imagined 
was in her nature. Then she seized Toddie, and gave 
him a few tokens of forgiveness — I dare not think they 
were of gratitude. 

Suddenly two or three ladies came upon the piazza. 

*'Come, boys,” said I. **Then I’ll call with the 
carriage to-morrow at three, Miss Mayton. Good- 
evening.” 

8 


114 


HELEN'S BABIES. 


^'Good-evening,” replied the sweetest voice in th^ 
world ; ” I’ll be ready at three.” 

Budge,” said I, as soon as we were fairly outside 
the hedge-gate, "what do you like better than anything 
else in the world ? ” 

Candy,” said Budge, very promptly. 

"mat next?” 

" Oranges.” 

" WTiat next ? ” 

"Oh, figs, an’ raisins, an’ dear little kittie-kitties, 
an’ drums, an’ picture-books, an’ little bakin’ dishes to 
make mud-pies in, an’ turtles, an’ little wheelbarrows.” 

" Anything else ? ” 

"Oh’ yes — great big black dogs — an’ a goat, an’ a 
wagon for him to draw me in.” 

"Very well, old fellow — you shall have every one 
of those things to-morrow.” 

" Oh — h — h — h — hi” exclaimed Budge, " I guesa 
you’re something like the Lord, aint you?” 

"What makes you think so. Budge?” 

" Oh, ’cause you can do such lots of things at once 
But aint poor little Tod goin’ to have noflEn’ ? ” 


HELENAS BABIES. 


115 


Yes, everything he wants. What would you likes 
Toddie?” 

” Wants a candy agar,” replied Toddie. 

"What else?” 

" Don’t want nuffirH else — don’t want to bh boddered 
wif lots of fings.” 

The thoughts which were mine that night — the 
sense of how glorious a thing it is to be a man and be 
loved — the humility that comes with such a victory 
as I had gained — the rapid alternation of happy 
thoughts and noble resolutions — what man is there 
who does not know my whole story better than I can 
tell it ? I put my nephews to bed ; I told them every 
story they asked for ; and when Budge, in saying his 
prayers, said, ''an bless that nice lady that Uncle 
Harry ’spects,” I interrupted his devotions with a 
nearty hug. The children had been awake so far be- 
yond their usual hour for retiring that they dropped 
asleep without giving any special notice of their inten- 
tion to do so. Asleep, their faces were simply angelic. 
As I stood, candle in hand, gazing gratefully upon 
them, I remembered a sadly neglected duty. I hurried 
to the library and wrote the following to my sister ; — 


116 


HELENAS BABIES, 


“ Hillcrest, Monday Night. 

“Dear Helen: — I should have written you before had 1 
been exactly certain what to say about your boys. I confess that 
until now I have been blind to some of their virtues, and have 
imagined I detected an occasional fault. But the scales have 
fallen from my eyes, and I see clearly that my nephews are 
angels — positively angels. If I seem to speak extravagantly, I 
beg to refer you to Alice Mayton for collateral evidence. Don’t 
come home at all — everything is just as it should be — even if 
you come, I guess I’ll invite myself to spend the rest of the sum- 
mer with you ; I’ve changed my mind about it’s being a bore to 
live out of town and take trains back and forth every day. Ask 
Tom to think over such bits of real' estate iu your neighborhood 
as ho imagines I might like. 

“I repeat it, the boys are angels, and Alice Mayton is 
another, while the happiest man in the white goods trade is 
“Your affectionate brother 

“ Harry.” 

Early next morning I sought the society of my 
nephews. It was absolutely necessary that I should 
overflow to some one — some one who was sympathetic 
and innocent and pure. I longed for my sister — my 
mother, but to some one 1 must talk at once. Budge 
fulfilled my requirements exactly ; he was an excellent 
listener, very sympathetic by nature, and quick to ro- 


SJSLSN^S BABIES. 


117 


Bpond. Not the wisdom of the most reverend sage 
alive could have been so grateful to my ear as that 
child’s prattle was on that delightful morning. As for 
Toddie — blessed be the law of compensation I — his 
faculty of repetition, and of echoing whatever he heard 
said, caused him to murmur ”Miff May ton. Miff May- 
ton,” all morning long, and the sound gained in sweet- 
ness by its ceaseless iteration. To be sure. Budge 
took early and frequent occasions to remind me of my 
promises of the night before, and Toddie occasionally 
demanded the promised candy cigar ; but these very in- 
terruptions only added joy to my own topic of interest 
each time it was resumed. The filling of Budgie’s 
orders occupied two or three hours and all the vacant 
space in the carriage ; even then the goat and goat-car- 
riage were compelled to follow behind. 

The programme for the afternoon was arranged to 
the satisfaction of every one. 1 gave the coachman, 
Mike, a dollar to harness the goat and teach the chil- 
dren to drive him ; this left me free to drive off without 
being followed by two small figures and two pitiful 
howls. 

I always believed a horse was infected by the spirit ol 


118 


HELENAS BABIES, 


his di*iver. My dear old four-footed military companions 
always seemed to perfectly comprehend my desires and 
intentions, and certainly my brother-in-law’s horses 
entered into my own spirits on this particular afternoon. 
They stepped proudly, they arched their powerful necks 
handsomely, their feet seemed barely to touch the 
ground ; yet they did not grow restive under the bit, 
nor were they frightened even at a hideous steam 
road-rolling machine which passed us. As I drove up 
to Mrs. Clarkson’s door I found that most of the boarders 
were on the piazza — the memories of ladies are usually 
good at times. Alice immediately appeared, composed 
of course, but more radiant than ever. 

” Why, where are the boys ? ” she exclaimed. 

” I was afraid they might annoy your mother,” I re- 
plied, " so I left them behind.” 

Oh, mother hardly feels well enough to go to-day,” 
said she ; she is lying down.” 

**Then we can pick up the boys on the road,” said I, 
for which remark, my enchantress, already descending 
the steps, gave me a look which the ladies behind her 
would have given their best switches to have seen. 

We drove off as decorously as if it were Sunday and 


HELENAS BABIES. 


119 


we were driving to church ; we industriously pointed 
out to each other every handsome garden and tasteful 
residence we passed ; we met other people driving, and 
conversed fluently upon their horses, carriages and 
dress. But when we reached the edge of the town, 
and 1 turned into " Happy Valley,” a road following the 
depressions and curves of a long, well-wooded valley, 
in which there was not a single straight line, I turned 
and looked into my darling’s face. Her eyes met mine, 
and, although they were full of a happiness which I had 
never seen in them before, they filled with tears, and 
their dear owner dropped her head on my shoulder. 

What we said on that long drive would not interest 
the reader. I have learned by experience to skip all 
love talks in novels ; no matter how delightful the lovers 
may be. Kecalling now our conversation, it does not 
seem to me to have had anything wonderful in it. I 
will only say that if I had been happy on the evening 
before, my happiness now seemed to be sanctified ; to 
be favored with the love and confidence of a simple 
girl scarcely past her childhood is to receive a greater 
honor than court or field can bestow; but even this 
honor is far surpassed by that which comes to a man 


120 


HELENAS BABIES. 


when a woman of rare intelligence, tact and knowledge 
of society and the world, unburdens her heart of all its 
hopes and fears, and unhesitatingly leaves her destiny 
to be shaped by his love. Women like Alice Mayton 
do not thus give themselves unreservedly away except 
when their trust is born of knowledge as well as affec- 
tion, and the realization of all this changed me on that 
afternoon from whatever I had been into what I had 
long hoped I might one day be. 

But the hours llew rapidly, and I reluctantly turned 
the horses’ heads homeward. We had left almost the 
whole of ” Happy Valley” behind us, and were ap- 
proaching residences again. 

" Now we must be very proper,” said Alice. 

** Certainly,” I replied, " here’s a good-by to happy 
nonsense for this afternoon.” 

I leaned toward her, and gently placed one arm about 
her neck ; she raised her dear face, from which joy 
and trust had banished every indication of caution and 
reserve, my lips sought hers, when suddenly we heard 
a most unearthly, discordant shriek, which presently 
separated into two, each of which prolonged itself in- 
definitely. The horses started, and Alice — blessed 


HELENAS BABIES. 


121 


be all frights, now, henceforth, and forevermore I — 
clung tightly to me. The sounds seemed to be ap- 
proaching us, and were accompanied by a lively rattling 
noise, that seemed to be made by something wooden. 
Suddenly, as we approached a bend of the road, I saw 
my youngest nephew appear from some unknown 
space, describe a parabolic curve in the air, ricochet 
slightly from an earthy protuberance in the road, and 
make a final stop in the gutter. At the same time, 
there appeared, from behind the bend, the goat, then 
the carriage dragging on one side, and lastly, the boy 
Budge, grasping tightly the back of the carriage body, 
and howling frightfully. A direct collision between 
the carriage and a stone caused Budge to loose his 
hold, while the goat, after taking in the scene, trotted 
leisurely oflf, and disappeared in a road leading to the 
house of his late owner. 

” Budge,” I shouted, *'stop that bawling, and come 
here. IVhere's JMike ? ” 

He — boo — hoo — went to — hoo — light his — 
boo — hoo — hoo — pipe, an’ I just let the — boo — 
hoo — whip go against to the goat, an’ then he scat- 
tooed.” 


122 


HELENAS BABIES, 


”Nashty old goat scaddooed,” said Toddie, in cor- 
oboration. 

” Well, walk right home, and tell Maggie to wash 
md dress you,” said I. 

Harry,” pleaded Alice, "after theyVe been in 
such danger I Come here to your own Aunt Alice, 
Budgie dear, — and you, too, Toddie, — you know 
you said we could pick the boys up on the road, 
Harry. There, there — don’t cry — let me ‘wipe the 
ugly old dirt off you, and kiss the face, and make it 
well.” 

"Alice,” I protested, "don’t let those dirty boys 
clamber all over you in that way.” 

" Silence, sir,” said she, with mock dignity, " who 
gave me my lover, I should like to ask.” 

So we drove up to the boarding-house with the air 
of people who had been devoting themselves to a 
couple of very disreputable children, and I drove 
swiftly away again, lest the children should dispel the 
illusion. We soon met Mike, running. The moment 
he recognized us, he shouted : — 

^*Ay, ye little dhivils, — beggin’ yer pardon, Mas- 
ther Harry, an’ thankin’ the Howljf Mither that their 


HELENAS BABIES. 


123 


good-for-nothin’ little bones aint broke to bits. Av 
they saw a hippypottymus hitched to Pharaoh’s chariot, 
they’d think ’emsclves jist the byes to take the bossin’ 
av it, the spalpeens.” 

But no number of ordinary hippopotami and 
chariots could have disturbed the heavenly tranquillity 
of my mind on this most glorious of evenings. Even 
a subtle sense of the fitness of things seemed to over- 
shadow my nephews. Perhaps the touch of my en- 
chantress did it ; perhaps it came only from the natural 
relapse from great excitement ; but no matter what the 
reason was, the fact remains that for the rest of the 
evening two very dirty suits of clothes held two chil- 
dren who gave one some idea of how the denizens of 
Paradise might seem and act. They even ate their 
suppers without indulging in any of the repulsive ways 
of which they had so large an assortment, and they did 
not surreptitiously remove from the table any frag- 
ments of bread and butter to leave on the piano, in the 
card-basket, and other places inappropriate to the re- 
ception of such varieties of abandoned property. They 
demanded a song after supper, but when I sang, 
"Drink to me only with Thine Eyes,” and "Thou, Thou, 


124 


SELEN^S BABIES, 


Reign’st in this Bosom,” they stood by with silent 
tongues and appreciative eyes. When they went to bed, 
I accompanied them by special invitation, but they 
showed no disposition to engage in the usual bedtime 
frolic and miniature pandemonium. Budge, when in 
bed, closed his eyes, folded his hands, and prayed : — 
Dear Lord, bless papa an^ mamma, an* Toddie, an* 
Uncle Harry, an* everybody else ; yes, an* bless just 
lots that lovely, lovely lady that comforted me after 
the goat was bad to me, an* let her comfort me lots of 
times, for Christ’s sake. Amen.** 

And Toddie wriggled, twisted, breathed heavily, 
threw his head back, and prayed : 

"Dee Lord, don’t let dat old goat fro me into de 
gutter on my head aden, an* let Ocken Hawwy an’ ze 
pitty lady be dere netst time I dets hurted.” 

Then the good-night salutations were exchanged, 
and I left the little darlings and enjoyed communion 
with my own thoughts, which were as peaceful and 
ecstatic, as if the world contained no white goods 
houses, no doubtful customers, no business competi 
tion, no politics, gold rooms, stock-boards, doubtful 
banks, political scandals, personal iniquity, nor any- 


Helen's babies. 


125 


thing which should prevent a short vacation from last- 
ing through a long lifetime. 

The next morning would have struck terror to the 
heart of any one but a newly accepted lover. Kain 
was falling fast, and in that steady, industrious manner 
which seemed to assert an intention to stick closely to 
business for the whole day. The sky was covered by one 
impenetrable leaden cloud, water stood in pools in the 
streets which were soft with dust a few hours before ; 
the flowers all hung their heads like vagabonds who had 
been awake all night and were ashamed to face the day- 
bght. Even the chickens stood about in dejected 
attitudes, and stray roosters from other poultry-yards 
found refuge inTom^s coop without first being subjected 
to a trial of strength and skill by Tom’s game-cock. 

But no man in my condition of mind could be easily 
depressed by bad weather. I would rather have been 
able to drive about under a clear sky, or lounge under 
the trees, or walk to the post-office in the afternoon by 
the road which passed directly in front of Mrs. Clark- 
son’s boarding-house ; but man should not live for him- 
self alone. In the room next mine were slumbering 


126 


HELENS* 8 BABIES, 


two wee people to whom I owed a great deal, and who 
would mourn bitterly when they saw the condition of 
the skies and ground — I would devote myself to the 
task of making them so happy that they would forget 
the absence of sunshine out of doors — I would sit by 
their bedside and have a story ready for them the mo- 
ment they awoke, and put them in such a good humor 
that they could laugh, with me, at cloud and rain. 

I began at once to construct a story for their especial 
benefit ; the scene was to be a country residence on a 
rainy day, and the actors two little boys who should 
become uproariously jolly in spite of the weather. Like 
most people not used to story-maldng, my progress 
was not very rapid ; in fact, I had got no farther than 
the plot indicated above when an angry snarl came 
from the children’s room, 

” What’s the matter. Budge?” I shouted, dressing 
myself as rapidly as possible. 

"Ow — 00 — ya — ng — um — boo — gaa,” was the 
somewhat complicated response. 

” Wliat did you say. Budge ? ” 

Didn’t say noflhi’.” 

” Oh — that’s what I thought.” 


HELENAS BABIES. 


127 


DidrCt thought/’ 

’' Budge, — Budge, — be good.” 

" Don’t want to be good — ya — a — A.” 

" Let’s have some fun. Budge — don’t you want to 
frolic ? ” 

"No ; I don’t think frolics is nice.” 

" Don’t you want some candy. Budge ? ” 

"No — you ain’t got no candy, I bleeve.” 

" Well, you shan’t have any if you don’t stop being 
so cross.” 

The only reply to this was a mighty and audible 
rustling of the bedding in the boys’ room, followed by 
a sound strongly resembhng thai; caused by a slap ; 
then came a prolonged wail, resembling that of an 
ungreased wagon-wheel. 

" ^Vhat’s the matter, Toddie ? ” 

" Budge s’apped me — ah — h — h — h I” 

" What made you slap your brother. Budge ? ” 

" You didj^ screamed Toddie. 

"I tell you I didn’t — you’re a naughty, bad boy to 
tell such such lies, Toddie.” 

" What did you do. Budge ?” I asked. 


128 


RELENTS BABIES. 


"Wliy — why — I was — I was turnin’ over in bed, 
an’ my hand was out, and it tumbled against to Toddie 
— that’s what.” 

By this time I was dressed and in the boys’ room. 
Both my nephews were sitting up in bed, Budge 
looking as sullen as an old jail-bird, and Toddie with 
tears streaming all over his face. 

"Boys,” said I, "don’t be angry with each other — it 
isn’t right. What do you suppose the Lord thinks 
when he sees you so cross to each other ? ” 

"He don’t think noffin,” said Budge; "you don’t 
think he can look through a black sky like that, do 
you?” 

"He can look anywhere. Budge, and he feels very 
unhappy when he sees little brothers angry with each 
other.” 

"Well, I feel unhappy, too — I wish there wasn’t 
never no old rain, nor nothin’.” 

" Then what would the plants and flowers do for a 
drink, and where would the rivers come from for you 
to go sailing on ? ” 

"An’ wawtoo to mate mud-pies,” added Toddie. 

i 


HELENAS BABIES. 


129 


**You’ 8 a naughty boy, Budgie and here Toddie’s tears 
began to flow afresh. 

” I ainl a bad boy, an’ I don’t want no old rain no- 
how, an’ that’s all about it. An’ I don’t want to get 
up, an’ Maggie must bring me up my breakfast in 
bed.” 

«Boo — hoo — oo,” wept Toddie, "wants my brep 
spup in bed too.” 

"Boys,” said I, "now listen. You can’t have any 
breakfast at all unless you are up and dressed by the 
time the bell rings. The rising-bell rang some time 
ago. Now dress like good boys, and you shall have 
some breakfast, and then you’ll feel a great deal nicer, 
and then Uncle Harry will play with you and tell you 
stories all day long.” 

Budge crept reluctantly out of bed and caught up 
one of his stockings, while Toddie again began to cry. 

" Toddie,” I shouted, " stop that dreadful racket, and 
dress yourself. What are you crying for?” 

" Well, I feelsh bad.” 

" Well, dress yourself, and you’ll feel better.” 

" Wantsh ycm to djesh me.” 

" Bring me your clothes, then — quick I ” 

9 


130 


HELENAS BABIES. 


Again the tears flowed copiously. ” Don’t to 

bring ’em,” said Toddie. 

Then come here I ” I shouted, dragging him across 
the room, and snatching up his tiny articles of apparel. 
I had dressed no small children since I was rather a 
small boy myself, and Toddie’s clothing confused me 
somewhat. I finally got something on him, when a 
contemptuous laugh from Budge interrupted mo. 

"How you goin’ to put his shirt on under them 
things ? ” queried my oldest nephew. 

" Budge,” I retorted, "how are you going to get any 
breakfast if you don’t put on something besides that 
stocking ? ” 

The yoimg man’s countenance fell, and just then the 
breakfast-bell rang. Budge raised a blank face, hur- 
ried to the head of the stairs, and shouted : ~ 

" Maggie ? ” 

"MTiat is it. Budge 

"Was — was that the rising-bell or the breakfast- 
bell?” 

" ’Twas the breakfast-bell.” 

There was dead silence for a moment, and then 
Budge shouted : — 


HBLEir*8 BABIES, 


181 


"Well, we’ll call that the risin-bell. You can ring 
another bell for breakfast pretty soon when I got 
dressed.” Then this volunteer adjuster of h(*usehold 
affairs came calmly back and commenced drest>ing in 
good earnest, while I labored along with Toddie’s 
wardrobe. 

” Where’s the button-hook, Budge ? ” said I. 

"Its — I — oh — um — I put it — say. Tod, what 
did you do with the button-hook yesterday ? ” 

" Didn’t hazh no button-hook,” asserted Toddie. 

"Yes, you did; don’t you ’member how we was a 
playin’ draw teef, an’ the doctor’s dog had the toof- 
ache, and I was pullin’ his teef with the button-hook, 
an’ you was my little boy, an’ I gived the toof-puUer 
to you to hold for me ? \Miere did you put it ? ” 

no,” replied Toddie, putting his hand in his 
pocket and bringing out a sickly-looking toad. 

"Teel again,” said I, throwing the toad out the 
window, wnere it was followed by an agonized shriek 
fi*om Toddie. Again he felt, and his search was re- 
warded by the tension-screw of Helen’s sewing- 
machine. Then I attempted some research myself, 
and speedily found my fingers adhering to something 


132 


HELENAS BABIES. 


of a sticky consistency. I qnickly withdrew my Land, 
exclaiming ; — 

*'’\Vhat nasty stutT have you got in your pocket, 
Toddie?” 

** Taint nashty ’tuff — its byead an’ ’lasses, an’ its 
nice, an’ Budge an’ me hazh little tea-parties in de 
kicken-coop, an’ we eats it, an’ its doveZy.” 

All this was lucid and disgusting, but utterly unpro- , 
ductive of button-hooks, and meanwhile the breakfast 
was growing cold. I succeeded in buttoning Toddie’s 
shoes with my fingers, splitting most of my nails in 
the operation. I had been too busily engaged with 
Toddie to pay any attention to Budge, who I now 
found about half dressed and trying to catch flies on 
the window-pane. Snatching Toddie, I started for 
the dining-room, when Budge remarked reprovingly : — 

” Uncle Harry, you wasn’t dressed when the bell 
rang, and you oughtn’t to have any breakfast.” 

True enough — I was minus collar, cravat, and coat. 
Hurrying these on, and starting again, I wa« once 
more arrested : — 

” Uncle Harry, must I brush my teeth this mom- 
mg?’’ 


melen^'b babies. 


133 


"No — hurry up — come down without doing any- 
thing more, if you like, but come — it’ll be dinner- 
time before we get breakfast.” 

Then that imp was moved, for the first time that 
morning, to something like good-nature, and he ex- 
claimed with a giggle : — 

" My I What big stomachs we’d have when we 
got done, wouldn’t we?” 

At the breakfast table Toddie wept again, because I 
insisted on beginning operations before Budge came. 
Then neither boy knew exactly what he wanted. Then 
Budge managed to upset the contents of his plate into 
his lap, and while I was helping him clear away the 
debris, Toddie improved the opportunity to pour his 
milk upon his fish, and put several spoonfuls of oatmeal 
porridge into my cofiee-cup. I made an early expense 
to leave the table and turn the children over to Maggie. 
I felt as tired as if I had done a hard day’s work, and 
was somewhat appalled at realizing that the day had 
barely begun. I lit a cigar and sat down to Helen’s 
piano. I 'am not a musician, but even the chords of a 
hand-organ would have seemed sweet music to me on 
that morning. The music-book nearest to my hand was 


184 


RBLEN^S BABIES. 


a church hymn-book, and the first air my eye stnick 
was ” Greenville.” I lived once in a town, where,, on a 
single day a peddler disposed of thirty-eight accordeons, 
each with an instruction-book in which this same air, 
under its original name, was the only air. For years 
after, a single bar of this air awakened the most mel- 
ancholy reflections in my mind, but now I forgave all 
my musical tormentors as the familiar strains came 
comfortingly from the piano-keys. But suddenly I 
heard an accompaniment — a sort of reedy sound — and, 
looking around, I saw Toddie again in tears. I stopped 
abruptly and asked : — 

" What’s the matter now ^ Toddie ? ” 

” Don’t want dat old tune ; wantsh dancin’ tune, so I 
can dance.” 

I promptly played ” Yankee Doodle,” and Toddie 
began to trot around the room with the expression of a 
man who intended to do his whole duty. Then Budge 
appeared, hugging a bound volume of " St. Nicholas.^’ 
The moment Toddie espied this he stopped dancing and 
devoted himself anew to the task of weeping. 

Toddie,” I shouted, springing from the piano-stool, 
" what do you mean by crying at everything? I shall 


Selena's babies. 


135 


have to put you to bed again, if you’re going to be such 
B baby.” 

the way he always does, rainy days,” ex- 
plained Budge. 

” Wantsh to see the whay-al what fwollowed Djonah,” 
sobbed Toddie. 

" Can’t you demand something that’s within the range 
of possibility, Toddie ? ” I mildly asked. 

” The whale Toddie means is in this big red book, — 
I’ll find it for you,” said Budge, turning over the leaves. 

Suddenly a rejoicing squeal from Toddie announced 
that leviathan had been found, and I hastened to gaze. 
He was certainly a dreadful-looking animal, but he had 
an enormous mouth, which Toddie caressed with his 
pudgy little hand, and kissed with tenderness, murmur- 
ing as he did so : — 

Dee old whay-al, I loves you. Is Jonah all goneded 
out of you ’tomach, whay-al ? I finks ’twas weal mean 
in Djonah to get froed up when you hadn’t noffin’ else 
to eat, jpooT old whay-al.” 

" Of course Jonah’s gone,” said Budge, ” he went to 
heaven long ago — pretty soon after he went to Nineveh 


136 


HELENAS BABIES. 


an’ done what the Lord told him to do. Now swin^ us, 
Uncle Harry.” 

The swing was on the piazza under cover from the 
rain ; so I obeyed. Both boys fought for the right to 
swing first, and when I decided in favor of Budge, 
Toddie went off weeping, and declaring that he would 
look at his dear whay-al anyhow. A moment later his 
wail changed to a piercing shriek ; and, running to his 
&ssistance, I saw him holding one finger tenderly and 
trampling on a wasp. 

” What’s the matter, Toddie?” 

** Oo — 00 — ee — ee — ee — ee — I putted my fin- 
ger on a waps, and — oo — oo — the nasty old waps 
— 00 — bited me. An’ I don’t like wapses a bit, but 
I likes whay-als — oo — ee — ee.” 

A happy thought struck me. ” Why don’t you boys 
make believe that big packing-box in your play-room is 
a whale ? ” said I. 

A compound shriek of delight followed the sugges- 
tion, and both boys scrambled upstairs, leaving me a 
free man again. I looked remorsefully at the tableful 
of books which I had brought to read, and had not 
looked at for a week. Even now my remorse did not 


hblen'^s babies. 


137 


move me to open them — I found myself instead at- 
tracted toward Tom’s library, and conning the titles of 
novels and volumes of poems. My eye was caught by 
” Initials,” — a love-story which I had always avoided 
because I had heard impressible young ladies rave 
about it ; but now I picked it up and dropped into an 
easy-chair. Suddenly I heard Mike the coachman 
shouting : — 

" Go way from there, will ye ? Ah, ye little spalpeen, 
it’s good for ye that yer fahder don’t see ye perched up 
dhere. Go way from dhat, or I’ll bo tollin’ yer uncle.” 

"Don’t care for nasty old uncle,” piped Toddie’s 
voice. 

I laid down my book with a sigh, and went into the 
garden. Mike saw me and shouted : — 

"Misther Burthon, will ye look dhere? Did ye’s 
ever see the loike av dhat bye ? ” 

Looking up at the play-room window, a long, narrow 
sort of loop-hole in a Gothic gable, I beheld my young- 
est nephew standing upright on the sill. 

" Toddie, go in — quick I ” I shouted, hurrying under 
the window to catch him in case he fell outward, 

"I lan’t,” squealed Toddie. 


138 


HELENAS BABIES. 


”Mike, run upstairs and snatch him in I Toddie, go 
in, I tell you I ” 

" Tell you I tarCt doe in,” repeated Toddie. ” Ze bid 
bots ish ze whay-al, an* I*ze Djonah, an* ze whay-aPs 
froed me up, an* I*ze dot to *tay up here else ze whay-al 
*ill fwallow me aden.” 

” I won’t let him swallow you. Get in now — hurry,” 
said I. 

” Will you give him a penny not to fwallow me no 
more ? ** queried Toddie. 

** Yes — a whole lot of pennies.” 

*'Aw wight. Whay-al, don’t you fwallow me no 
more, an* zen my Ocken Hawwy div you whole lots of 
pennies. You must be weal dood whay-al now, an* 
then I buys you some tandy wif your pennies, an* — ** 

Just then two great hands seized Toddie’s frock in 
front, and he disappeared with a howl, while I, with 
the first feeling of faintness I had ever experienced, 
went in search of hammer, nails, and some strips of 
board, to nail on the outside of the window-frame. 
But boards could not be found, so I went up to the 
play-room and began to knock a piece or two off the 


HELEN'S BABIESf 


139 


box which had done duty as whale. A pitiful scream 
from Toddie caused me to stop. 

You’re hurtin’ my dee old whay-al ; you’s brakin’ 
his ’tomach all open — you’s a baddy man — Hop 
hurtin my whay-al, ee — ee — ee,” cried my nephew. 

” I’m not hurting him, Toddie,” said I ; " I’m making 
his mouth bigger, so he can swallow you easier.” 

• A bright thought came into Toddie’s face and shone 
through his tears. " Then he can fwallow Budgie too, 
an’ there’ll be two Djonahs — ha — ha — ha 1 Make 
his mouf so big he can fwallow Mike, an’ zen mate it 
’ittle aden, so Mike tan’t det out; nashty old Mike I ” 

I explained that Mike would not come upstairs 
again, so I was permitted to depart after securing the 
window. 

Again I settled myself with book and cigar ; there 
was at least for me the extra enjoyment that comes 
from the sense of pleasure earned by honest toil. 
Pretty soon Budge entered the room. I affected not 
to notice him, but he was not in the least abashed by 
my neglect. 

” Uncle Harry,” said he, throwing himself in my la^^ 
between my book and me, ” I don’t feel a bit nice.” 


140 


HELENAS BABIES, 


” What’s the matter, old fellow ? ” I asked. Until he 
spoke I could have boxed his ears with great satisfac- 
tion to myself ; but there is so much genuine feeling in 
w hatever Budge says that he commands respect. 

”Oh, I’m tired of playin’ with Toddie, an’ I feel 
lonesome. W'on’t you tell me a story?” 

” Then what’ll poor Toddie do, Budge ? ” 

”Oh, he won’t mind — he’s got a dead mouse to be 
Jonah now, so I don’t have no fun at all. Won’t you 
tell me a story ? ” 

Which one?” 

” Tell me one that I never heard before at all, 

” Well, let’s see ; I guess I’ll tell — ” 

” Ah — ah — ah — ah — ee — ee — ee ” sounded afar 
off, but fatefully. It came nearer — it came down the 
stairway and into the library, accompanied by Toddie, 
who, on spying me, dropped his inarticulate utterance, 
held up both hands, and exclaimed : — 

**Djonah bwoke he tay-al ! ” 

True enough ; in one hand Toddie held the body of 
a mouse, and in the other that animal’s caudal append 
age; there was also perceptible, though not by th 
sense of sight, an objectionable odor in the room. 


HELEN’S BABIES. 


141 


**To(ldie,” said I, ” go throw Jonah into the chicken- 
coop, and I’ll give you some candy.” 

" Me too,” shouted Budge, " cos I found the mouse 
for him.” 

I made both boys happy with candy, exacted a 
pledge not to go out in the rain, and then, turning them 
loose on the piazza, returned to my book. I had read 
perhaps half-a-dozen pages, when there arose and 
swelled rapidly in voliune a scream from Toddie. 
Madly determined to put both boys into chairs, tie 
them, and clap adhesive plaster over their mouths, 
I rushed out upon the piazza. 

” Budgie tried to eat my candy,” complained Toddie. 
didn’t,” said Budge. 

” What did you do ? ” I demanded. 

didn’t bite it at all — I only wanted to see how it 
would feel between my teeth — that’s all.” 

I felt the corners of my mouth breaking down, and 
hurried back to the library, where I spent a quiet 
quarter of an hour in pondering over the demoralizing 
influence exerted upon principle by a sense of the ludi- 
crous. For some time afterward the boys got along 
without doing anything worse than make a dreadful 


142 


HELENAS BABIES, 


noiso, which caused me to resolve to find some method 
of deadening piazza-floors if / ever owned a house in 
the coimtry. In the occasional intervals of compara- 
tive quiet I caught snatches of very funny conversa- 
tion. The boys had coined a great many words whose 
meaning was evident enough, but I wondered greatly 
why Tom and Helen had never taught them the proper 
substitutes. 

Among others was the word ” deader,” whose mean- 
ing I could not imagine. Budge shouted : — 

"O Tod; there comes a deader. See where aU 
them things like rooster's tails are a-shakin’? — Well, 
there's a deader under them.” 

" Datsh funny,” remarked Toddie. 

"An' see all the peoples a-comin’ along,” continued 
Budge, they know 'bout the deader, an' they're goin' to 
see if fixed. Here it comes. Hello, deader I ” 

" Hay-oh, deader,” echoed Toddie. 

What could deader mean ? 

" Oh, here it is right in front of us,” cried Budge, 
" and aint there lots of people ? An' two horses to pull 
the deader — some deaders has only one.” 

My curiosity was too much for my weariness; I 


HELENAS BABIES. 


143 


went to the front window, and, peering through, was — 
a funeral procession I In a second I was on the piazza, 
with my hands on the children’s collars ; a second 
later two small boys were on the floor of the, hall, the 
front door was closed, and two determined hands cov- 
ered two threatening little mouths. 

When the procession had fairly passed the house I 
released the boys and heard two prolonged howls for 
my pains. Then I asked Budge if he wasn’t ashamed 
to talk that way when a funeral was passing. 

'' ^TwasnH a funeral,” said he. ” ’Twas only a deader, 
an’ deaders can’t hear nothin.’ ” 

” But the people in the carriages could,” said I. 

Well,” said he, 'Hhey was so glad that the other 
part of the deader had gone to heaven that they didn’t 
care what I said. Ev’rybody’s glad when the other 
parts of deaders go to heaven. Papa told me to be 
glad that dear little Phillie was in heaven, an’ I was^ 
but I do want to see him again awful.” 

"Wantshto shee Phillie aden awfoo,” said Toddie, 
as I kissed Budge and hurried off to the library, unfit 
just then to administer farther instruction or reproof. 
Of one thing I was very certain — I wished the rain 


144 


Helen's babies. 


would cease falling, so the children could go out of 
doors, and I could get a little rest, and freedom from 
responsibility. But the skies showed no signs of being 
emptied, the boys were snarling on the stairway, and I 
was losing my temper quite rapidly. 

Suddenly I bethought me of one of the delights of 
my own childish days — the making of scrap-books. 
One of Tom’s library drawers held a great many Lady's 
Journals, Of course Helen meant to have them bound, 
but I could easily repurchase the numbers for her; 
they would cost two or three dollars ; but peace was 
cheap at that price. On a high shelf in the play-room 
I had seen some supplementary volumes of ** Mercantile 
Agency” reports, which would in time reach the rag- 
bag ; there was a bottle of mucilage in the library-desk, 
and the children owned an old pair of scissors. Within 
five minutes I had located two happy children on the 
bath-room floor, taught them to cut out pictures 
(which operation I quickly found they understood as 
well as I did) and to paste them into the extemporized 
scrap-book. Then I left them, recalling something 
from Newman Hall’s address on "The Dignity of 
Labor.” Why hadn’t I thought before of showing my 


HELEN' a BABIES. 


145 


nephews some way of occupying their minds and hands ? 
Who could blame the helpless little things for following 
every prompting of their unguided minds ? Had I not 
a hundred times been told, when sent to the wood-pile 
or the weediest part of the ^garden in my youthful days, 
that 

“ Satan finds some mischief still 
For idle hands to do ” P 

Never again would I blame children for being mis- 
chievous when their minds were neglected. 

I spent a peaceful, pleasant hour over my novel, 
when I felt that a fresh cigar would be acceptable. 
Going upstairs in search of one I found that Budge had 
filled the bath-tub with water, and was sailing boats, 
that is, hair-brushes. Even this seemed too mild an 
offence to call for a rebuke, so I passed on without dis- 
turbing him, and went to my own room. I heard 
Toddie’s voice, and having heard from my sister that 
Toddie’s conversations with himself were worth listen- 
ing to, I paused outside the door. I heard Toddie 
softly murmur : — 

**Zore, pitty yady, ’tay zere. Now, ’ittle boy, I put 


146 


HELENAS BABIES, 


you wif your mudder, tause mudders likes zere ’ittle 
boys wif zem. An’ you s’all have ’ittle sister tudder side 
of you, — zere. Now, ’ittle boy’s an’ ’ittle girl’s mud- 
der, don’t you feel happy ? — isn’t I awfoo good to give 
you your ’ittle tsilderns? You ought to say, ^Faiik 
you, Toddie, — you’s a nice, fweet ’ittle djentleman.’” 

I peered cautiously — then I entered the room hast- 
ily. I didn’t say anything for a moment, for it was 
impossible to do justice, impromptu, to the subject. 
^Joddie had a progressive mind — if pictorial ornamen- 
tation was good for old books, why should not similar 
ornamentation be extended to objects more likely to be 
seen? Such may not have been Toddie’s line of 
thought, but his recent operations warranted such a 
supposition. He had cut out a number of pictures, 
and pasted them upon the wall of my room — my sister’s 
darling room, with its walls tinted exquisitely in pink. 
As a member of a hanging committee, Toddie would 
hardly have satisfied taller people, but he had arranged 
the pictures quite regularly, at about the height of his 
own eyes, had favored no one artist more than another, 
and had hung indiscriminately figure pieces, land 
Bcapt^s, and genre pictures. The temporary break of 


HELENAS BABIES, 


147 


wall-line, occasioned by the door communicating with 
his own room, he had overcome by closing the door 
and earring a line of pictures across its lower panels. 
Occasionally, a picture fell off the wall, but the muci- 
lage remained faithful, and glistened with its fervor of 
devotion. And yet so untouched was I by this artistic 
display, that when I found strength to shout " Toddie 1 
it was in a tone which caused this industrious amateur 
decorator to start violently, and drop his mucilage- 
bottle, open end first, upon the carpet. 

” What will mamma say ? ” I asked. 

Toddie gazed, first blankly and then inquiringly, into 
my face ; finding no answer or sympathy there, he 
burst into tears, and replied : — 

" I dunno.” 

The ringing of the lunch-bell changed Toddie from a 
tearful cherub into a very practical, business-like boy, 
and, shouting, ” Come on, Budge 1 ” he hurried down- 
stairs, while I tormented myself with wonder as to how 
I could best and most quickly undo the mischief Toddie 
had done. 

I will concede to my nephews the credit of keeping 
reasonably quiet during meals ; their tongues doubtless 


148 


HELENAS BABIES. 


longed to bo active in both the principal capacities of 
those useful members, but they had no doubt as to 
how to choose between silence and hunger. The result 
was a reasonably comfortable half-hour. Just as I 
began to cut a melon, Budge broke the silence by 
exclaiming : — 

Uncle Harry, we haven’t been out to see the 
goat to-day I ” 

"Budge,” I replied, "I’ll carry you out there under 
an umbrella after lunch, and you may play with that 
goat all the afternoon, if you like.” 

" Oh, won’t that be nice ? ” exclaimed Budge. " The 
poor goat I he’ll think I don’t love him a bit, ’cause I 
haven’t been to see him to-day. Does goats go to 
heaven when they die. Uncle Harry?” 

"Guess not — they’d make trouble in the golden 
streets, I’m afraid.” 

" Oh, dear I then Phillie can’t see my goat. I’m so 
awful sorry,” said Budge. 

" I can see your goat. Budgie,” suggested Toddie. 

" Huh I ” said Budge, very contemptuously. " You 
ftint dead.” 

** Well, Izhe goirC to be dead some day, an’ zeQ your 


HELENAS BABIES, 


149 


nashty old goat shan’t see me a bit — see how he like 
And Toddie made a ferocious attack on a slice 
of melon nearly as large as himself. 

After lunch Toddie was sent to his room to take his 
afternoon nap, and Budge went to the bam on my 
shoulders. I gave Mike a dollar, with instmctions to 
keep Budge in sight, to keep him from teasing the 
goat, and to prevent his being impaled or butted. 
Then I stretched myself on a lounge, and wondered 
whether only half a day of daylight had elapsed since I 
and the most adorable woman in the world had been so 
happy together. How much happier I would be when 
next I met her 1 The very torments of this rainy day 
would make my joy seem all the dearer and more 
intense. I dreamed happily for a few moments with 
my eyes open, and then somehow they closed, without 
my knowledge. What put into my mind the wreck- 
scene from the play of ” David Copperfield,” I don’t 
know ; but there it came, and in my dream I was sit- 
ting in the balcony at Booth’s, and taldng a proper 
interest in the scene, when it occurred to me that the 
thunder had less of reverberation and more woodennesa 
than good stage thunder should have. The mental 


150 


HELENAS BABIES. 


exertion I underwent on this subject disturbed the 
course of my nap, but as wakefulness returned, the 
sound of the poorly-simulated thunder did not cease ; 
on the contrary, it was just as noisy, and more hope- 
lessly a counterfeit than ever. What could the sound 
be ? I stepped through the window to the piazza, and 
the sound was directly over my head. I sprang down 
the terrace and out upon the lawn, looked up, and 
beheld my youngest nephew strutting back and forth 
on the tin roof of the piazza, holding over his head a 
ragged old parasol. I roared — 

Go in, Toddie — this instant I ” 

The sound of my voice startled the young man so 
severely that he lost his footing, fell, and began to roll 
toward the edge and to scream, both operations being 
performed with great rapidity. I ran to catch him as 
he fell, but the outer edge of the water-trough was high 
enough to arrest his progress, though it had no effect 
in reducing the volume of his howls. 

"Todfiie,”! shouted, ” lie perfectly still imtil uncle 
can get to you. Do you hear ? ” 

” Ess, but don’t want to lie ’till,” came in reply from 
the roof. ’Tan’t shee noffin’ but sky an’ rain.” 


HELENAS BABIES. 


151 


’’Lie still, ^ I reiterated, ”or 111 whip you dread- 
fully.” Then I dashed upstairs, removed my shoes, 
climbed out and rescued Toddie, shook him soundly, 
and then shook myself. 

I wazh only djust pyayin mamma, an’ walkin’ in ze 
yain wif an umbayalla,” Toddie explained. 

I threw him upon his bed and departed. It was 
plain that neither logic, threats, nor the presence of 
danger could keep this dreadful child from doing what- 
ever he chose ; what other means of restraint could be 
employed? Although not as religious a man as my 
good mother could wish, I really wondered whether 
prayer, as a last resort, might not be effective. For 
his good, and my own peace, I would cheerfully have 
read through the whole prayer-book. I could hardly 
have done it just then, though, for Mike solicited an 
audience at the back-door, and reported that Budge 
had given the carriage-sponge to the goat, put handfuls 
of oats into the pump-cylinder, pulled hairs out of the 
black mare’s tail, and with a sharp nail drawn pictures 
on the enamel of the carriage-body. Budge made no 
denial, but looked very much aggrieved, and remarked 
that he couldn’t never be happy without somebody 


152 


HELENAS BABIES. 


having to go get bothered ; and he wished there wasn’t 
nobody in the world but organ-grinders and candy- 
store men. He followed me into the house, flung 
himself into a chair, put on a look which I imagine 
Byron wore before he was old enough to be malicious, 
and exclaimed : — ^ 

** I don’t see what little boys was made for, anyhow ; 
if ev’ry body gets cross with them, an’ don’t let ’em do 
what they want to. I’ll bet when I get to heaven, the 
Lord won’t be as ugly to me as Mike is, — an’ some 
other folks, too. I wish I could die and be buried 
right away, — me an’ the goat — an’ go to heaven, 
w^here we wouldn’t be scolded.” 

Poor little fellow I Pirst I laughed inwardly at his 
idea of heaven, and then I wondered whether my own 
was very diflerent from it, or any more creditable. I 
had no time to spend even in pious reflection, however. 
Budge was quite wet, his shoes were soaking, and he 
already had an attack of catarrh ; so I took him to his 
room and redressed him, wondering all the while how 
much similar duties my own father had had to do by 
me had shortened his life, and how, with such a son as 
I was, he lived as long as he did. The idea that I was 


BSLBN^S BABIES, 


158 


III some slight degree atoning for my early shis, so 
filled my thoughts, that I did not at first notice the 
absence of Toddie. When it did become evident to me 
that my youngest nephew was not in the bed in which 
1 had placed him, I went in search of him. He was in 
none of the chambers, but hearing gentle murmurs 
issue from a long, light closet, I looked in and saw 
Toddie sitting on the floor, and eating the cheese out 
of a mouse-trap. A squeak of my boots betrayed me, 
and Toddie, equal to the emergency, sprang to his feet, 
and exclaimed : — 

didn’t hurt de ’ittle mousie one bittie; I just 
letted him out, and he runded away.” 

And still it rained. Oh, for a single hour of sun- 
light, so that the mud might be only damp dirt, and 
the children could play without tormenting other 
people ! But it was not to be ; slowly, and by the aid 
of songs, stories, an improvised menagerie, in which J 
personated every animal, besides playing ostrich and 
armadillo, and a great many disagreements, the after- 
noon wore to its close, and my heart slowly lightened 
Only an hour or two more, and the children would be 
in bed for the night, and then I would enjoy, in unut- 


154 


SBLEN’S BABIES. 


terable measure, the peaceful hours which would be 
mine. Even now they were inclined to behave them- 
selves ; they were tired and hungry, and stretched 
themselves on the floor, to await dinner. I embraced 
the opportunity to return to- my book, but I had hardly 
read a page, when a combined crash and scream sum- 
moned me to the dining-room. On the floor lay Tod- 
die, a great many dishes, a roast leg of lamb, several 
ears of green corn, the butter-dish and its contents, 
and several other misplaced edibles. One thing was 
quite evident ; the scalding contents of the gravy-dish 
had been emptied on Toddie’s arm, and how severely 
the poor child might be scalded, I did not know. I 
hastily slit open his sleeve from wrist to shoulder, 
and found the skin very red ; so, remembering my 
mother’s favorite treatment for scalds and burns, I 
quickly spread the contents of a dish of mashed potato 
on a clean handkerchief, and wound the whole around 
Toddie’s arm as a poultice. Then I demanded an 
ex]Dlanation. 

I was only djust reatchin for a pieshe of bwed,” 
sobbed Toddie, an’ then the bad old tabo beginded to 
froe all its fings at me, an’ tumble down bang.” 


HELENAS EABtES* 


155 


He undoubtedly told the truth as far as he knew it ; 
but reaching over tables is a bad habit in small boys, 
especially when their mothers cling to old-fashioned 
heir-looms of tables, which have folding leaves ; so I 
banished Toddie to his room, supperless, to think of 
what he had done. With Budge alone, I had a com- 
fortable dinner off the salvage from the wreck caused 
by Toddie, and then I went upstairs to see if the 
offender had repented. It was hard to tell, by sight, 
whether he had or not, for his back was to me, as he 
flattened his nose against the window, but I could see 
that my poultice was gone. 

” Where is what uncle put on your arm, Toddie ? ” I 
asked. 

”I ate it up,” said the truthful youth. 

” Did you eat the handkerchief, too ? ” 

” No ; I froed nashty old handkerchief out the win- 
dow — don’t want dirty old handkerchiefs in my nice 
’ittle room.” 

I was so glad that his burn had been slight that I 
forgave the insult to my handkerchief, and called up 
Budge, so that I might at once get both boys into bed, 
and emerge from the bondage in which I had lived all 


156 


HELENAS BABIES^ 


day long. But the task was no easy one. Of course 
my brother-in-law, Tom Lawrence, knows better than 
any other man the necessities of his own children, but 
no children of mine shall ever be taught so many 
methods of imposing upon parental good nature. 
Their programme called for stories, songs, moral 
conversations, frolics, the presentation of pennies, the 
dropping of the same, at long intervals, into tin 
savings banks, followed by a deafening shaking-up of 
both banks ; then a prayer must be offered, and no 
conventional one would be tolerated ; then the boys 
performed their own devotions, after which I was 
allowed to depart with an interchange of ” God bless 
you’s.” As this evening I left the room with their 
innocent benedictions sounding in my ears, a sense of 
personal weakness, induced by the events of the day, 
moved me to fervently respond Am en I ” 

Mothers of American boys, accept from me a tribute 
of respect, which no words can fitly express — of 
wonder greater than any of the great things of the 
world ever inspired — of adoration as earnest and 
devout as the Catholic pays to the Virgin. In a 
Bijigle day, I, a strong man, with nothing else to 


HELENAS BABIES, 


157 


o<icu])y my mind, am reduced to physical and mental 
worthlessness by the necessities of two boys not over- 
mischievous or bad. And you — Heaven only knows 
how — have unbroken weeks, months, years, yes, life- 
times of just such experiences, and with them the 
burden of household cares, of physical ills and depres- 
sions, of mental anxieties that pierce your hearts with as 
many sorrows as grieved the Holy Mother of old. 
Compared with thy endurance, that of the young man, 
the athlete, is as weakness ; the secret of thy nerves, 
wonderful even in their weakness, is as great as that of 
the power of the winds. To display decision, thy 
opportunities are more frequent than those of the 
greatest statesman ; thy heroism laughs into insignifi- 
cance that of fort and field ; thou art trained in a school 
of diplomacy such as the most experienced court can- 
not furnish. Do scoflers say thou canst not hold the 
reins of government ? Easier is it to rule a band of 
savages than to be the successful autocrat of thy little 
kingdom. Compared with the ways of men, even thy 
failures are full of glory. Be thy faults what they 
may, thy one great, mysterious, unapproachable sue- 


158 


HELENAS BABIES, 


cess places thee, in desert, far above warrior, nilei 
or priest. 

The foregoing soliloquy passed through my mind as 
I lay upon the bed where I had thrown myself after 
leaving the children’s room. Whatever else attempted 
to affect me mentally found my mind a blank until the 
next morning, when I awoke to realize that I had 
dropped asleep just where I fell, and that I had spent 
nearly twelve hours lying across a bed in an uncomfort- 
able position, and without removing my daily attire. 
My next impression was that quite a bulky letter had 
been pushed under my chamber-door. Could it be 
that my darling — I hastily seized the envelope and 
foimd it addressed in my sister’s writing, and promising 
a more voluminous letter than that lady had ever before 
honored me with. I opened it, dropping an enclosure 
which doubtless was a list of necessities which I would 
please pack, etc., and read as follows ; — 

“ July 1, 1875. 

“My dear old Brother; — Wouldn't I like to give you the 
warmest of sisterly hugs? I can’t believe it, and yet I’m in 
ecstasies over it. To think that you should have got that perfec- 
tion of A girl, who has declined so many great catches — you, my 


HELENAS BABIES. 


159 


sober, business-like, unromantic big brother — oh, it’s too won- 
derful ! But now I think of it, you’re just the people for each 
other. I’d like to say that it’s just what I’d always longed for, 
and that I invited you to Hillcrest to bring it about; but the 
trouble with such a story would be that it wouldn’t have a word 
of truth in it. You always did have a faculty of doing just what 
you pleased, and what nobody ever expected you to do, but now 
you’ve exceeded yourself. 

“ And to think that my little darlings played an important part 
in bringing it all about ! I shall take the credit of that, for if it 
hadn’t been for me, who would have helped you, sir ? I shall 
expect you to remember both of them handsomely at Christmas. 

“ I don’t believe I’m guilty of a breach of confidence in send- 
ing the enclosed, which I have just received from my sister-in- 
law that is to be. It will tell you some causes of your success 
of which you, with a man’s conceit, haven’t imagined for a 
minute, and it will tell you, too, of a maiden’s first and natural 
fear under such circumstances, — a fear which I know that you, 
with your honest, generous heart, will hasten to dispel. As 
you’re a man, you’re quite likely to be too stupid to read what’s 
written between the lines ; so I’d better tell you that Alice’s fear 
is that in letting herself go so easily, she may have seemed to 
lack proper reserve and self-respect. You don’t need to be told 
that no woman alive has more of these very qualities. 

“ Bless your dear old heart, Hany, — you deserve to be shaken 
to death if you’re not the happiest man alive. I must hurry 
home jmd see you both with my own eyes, and learn to believe 


160 


HELENAS BABIES. 


that all this wonderful, glorious thing has come to pass. Give 
Alice a sister’s kiss from me (if you know how to give more than 
one kind), and give my cherubs a hundred each from the mother 
that wants to see them so much. 

“With love and congratulations, 

“ Helkw.” 

The other letter, which I opened with considerable 
reverence and more delight, ran as follows : — 

“ Hillcrest, June 29, 1875. 

“Dear friend Helen: — Something has happened, and I 
am very happy, but I am more than a little troubled over it, too, 
and as you are one of the persons nearly concerned, I am going 
to confess to you as soon as possible. Harry — your brother, I 
mean — will be sure to tell you very soon, if he hasn’t done so 
already, and I want to make all possible haste to solemnly 
assure you that I hadn’t the slightest idea of such a thing coming 
to pass, and I didn’t do the slightest thing to bring it about. 

“ I always thought your brother was a splendid fellow, and have 
never been afraid to express my mind about him, when there was 
no one but girls to listen. But out here I’ve somehow learned 
to admire him more than ever. I cheerfully acquit him of inten- 
tionally doing anything to :a*eate a favorable impression ; if his 
several appearances before me have been studied, he is certainly 
Uio most original being I ever heard of. Your children aro 


HELENAS BABIES. 


161 


aagels — you’ve told me so yourself, and I’ve my own very dis- 
tinct impression on the subject, but they don't study to save their 
ancle’s ai)pearance. The figures that unfortunate man has cut 
several times — well, 1 won’t try to describe them on paper, for 
fear he might some day see a scrap of it, and take offence. But 
he always seems to be patient with them, and devoted to them, 
and I haven’t been able to keep from seeing that a man who 
could be so lovable with thoughtless and unreasonable children 
must be perfectly adorable to the woman he loved, if she were a 
woman at all. Still, I hadn’t the faintest idea that I would be 
the fortunate woman. At last the day came, but I was in blissful 
ignorance of what was to happen. Your little Charley hurt him- 
self, and insisted upon Har — your brother singing an odd song 
to him ; and just when the young gentleman was doing the elegant 
to a dozen of us ladies at once, too ! If you could have seen his 
face! — it was too funny, until he got over his annoyance, and 
began to feel properly sorry for the little fellow — then he seemed 
all at once to be all tenderness and heart, and I did wish for a 
moment that conventionalities didn’t exist, and I might tell him 
that he was a model. Then your youngest playfully spilt a plate 
of soup on my dress (don’t be worried — ’twas only a common 
muslin, and ’twill wash). Of course I had to change it, and as I 
retired, the happy thought struck me that I’d make so elaborate 
a toilet that I wouldn’t finish in time to join the other ladies for 
the usual evening walk ; consequence, I would have a chance to 
monopolize a gentleman for half an hour or more — a chance 
which, no thanks to the gentlemen who don’t come to Hillcrest, 
11 


162 


Helen's babies. 


no lady here has had this season. Every time I peered through 
the blinds to see if the other girls had started, I could see Atm, 
looking so distressed, and brooding over those two children as 
if he was their mother, and he seemed so good. He seemed 
pleased to see me when 1 appeared, and coming from such a man 
the implied compliment was fully appreciated; everything he 
said to me seemed a little more worth hearing than if it had come 
from any man not so good. Then suddenly your eldest insisted 
on retailing the result of a conversation he had had with his 
uncle, and the upshot was that Harry declared himself ; he wasn’t 
romantic a bit, but he was real straightforrrard and manly, 
while I was so completely taken aback that I couldn’t think of a 
thing to say. Then the impudent fellow kissed me, and I lost 
my tongue worse than ever. K I had known anything of his 
feelings beforehand, I should have been prepared to behave 
more properly ; but — O Helen, I’m so glad I didn't know ! I 
should be the happiest being that ever lived, if I wasn’t afraid 
that you and your husband might think that I had given myself 
away too hastily. As to other people, we will see that they 
don’t know a word about it for months to come. 

** Do write that I was not to blame, and make believe accept 
me as a sister, because I can't offer to give Harry up to anv one 
else you may have picked out for him. 

“ Your sincere friend, 

“ Alice Matton.” 


Was there ever so delightful a reveille? All the 


HELENAS BABIES, 


163 


bo3nshness in me seemed suddenly to come to the sur- 
face, and instead of saying and doing the decorous 
things which novelists’ heroes do under similar circum- 
stances, I shouted "Hurrah I” and danced into the 
children’s room so violently that Budge sat up in bed, 
and regarded me with reproving eyes, while Toddie 
burst into a happy laugh, and volunteered as a partner 
in the dance. Then I realized that the rain was over, 
and the sun was shining — I could take Alice out for 
another drive, and until then the children could take 
care of themselves. I remembered suddenly, and with 
a sharp pang, that my vacation was nearly at an end, 
and I found myself consuming with impatience to know 
how much longer Alice would remain at Hillcrest. It 
would be cruel to wish her in the city before the end 
of August, yet I — 

"Uncle Harry,” said Budge, "my papa says ’tisn’t 
nice for folks to sit down an’ go to thinkin’ before 
they’ve brushed their hair momin’s — that’s what he 
tells me.” 

"I beg your pardon. Budge,” said I, springing up in 
gome confusion ; " I was thinking over a matter of a 
great dea^ of importance.” 


164 


HELENAS BABIES. 


TV hat was it — my goat ? ” 

” No — of course not. Don’t be silly, Budge. 

” Well, I think about him a good deal, an’ I don l 
think it’s silly a bit. I hope he’ll go to heaven when 
he dies. Do angels have goat-carriages, Uncle 
Harry?” 

”No, old fellow — they can go about without car- 
riages.” 

T\Tien I goesh to hebben,” said Toddie, rising in 
bed, "Izhe goin’ to have lots of goat-cawidjes an’ Izhe 
goin’ to tate all ze andjels a widen.” 

With many other bits of prophecy and celestial 
description I was regaled as I completed my toilet, and 
I hurried out of doors for an opportunity to think with- 
out disturbance. Strolling past the hen-yard I saw a 
meditative tuille, and, picking him up and shouting to 
my nephews, 1 held the reptile up for their inspection. 
Their window-blinds flew open, and a unanimous 
though not exactly harmonious " Oh I ” greeted my 
prize. 

”^Vhere did you get it, Uncle Harry?” asked 
Budge. 

** Down by the hen-coop.” 


SELBir^S BABIES. 


165 


Budge’s eyes opened wide ; he seemed to devote a 
moment to profound thought, and then he exclamed : — 
^Yhy, I don’t see how the hens could lay such a big 
thing — just put him in your hat till I come down, will 
you ? ” 

I dropped the turtle in Budge’s wheelbarrow, and 
made a tour of the . flower-borders. The flowers, 
always full of suggestion to me, seemed suddenly to 
have new charms and powers ; they actually impelled 
me to try to make rhymes, — me, a steady white-goods 
salesman I The impulse was too strong to be resisted, 
though I must admit that the results were pitifully 
meagre : — 

• 

“ As radiant as that matchless rose 
Which poet-artists fancy ; 

As fair as whitest lily-blows ; 

As modest as the pansy ; 

As pure as dew which hides within 
Aurora’s sun-kissed chalice ; 

As tender as the primrose sweet — 

All this, and more, is Alice.” 

In inflicting this fragment upon the reader, I have 
not the faintest idea that he can discover any merit in 


166 


MELEN^S BASIES. 


it ; I quote it only that a subsequent experience of mine 
may be more intelligible. "When I had composed these 
wretched lines I became conscious that I had neither 
pencil or paper wherewith to preserve them. Should 
I lose them — my first self-constructed poem ? Never I 
This was not the first time in which I had found it nec- 
essary to preserve words by memory alone. So I 
repeated my ridiculous lines over and over again, until 
the eloquent feeling of which they were the graceless 
expression inspired me to accompany my recital with 
gestures. Six — eight — ten — a dozen — twenty times 
I repeated these lines, each time with additional emo- 
tion and gesture, when a thin voice, very near me, 
remarked : — * 

Ocken Hawwy, you does djust as if you was swim- 
min’.” 

Turning, I beheld my nephew Toddie — how long 
he had been behind me I had no idea. He looked 
earnestly into my eyes, and then remarked : — 

” Ocken Hawwy, your faysh is wed, djust like a 
wosy-posy.” 

” Let’s go right in to breakfast, Toddie,” said I 


HELEN'’ S BABIES. 


167 


aloud, as I grumbled to myself about the faeulty of 
observation which Tom’s children seemed to have. 

Immediately after breakfast I despatched Mike with 
a note to Alice, informing her that I would be glad to 
drive her to the Falls in the afternoon, calling for her at 
two. Then I placed myself unreservedly at the dis- 
posal of the boys for the morning, it being distinctly 
understood that they must not expect to see me 
between lunch and dinner. I was first instructed to 
harness the goat, which order I obeyed, and I after- 
ward watched that grave animal as he drew my nephews 
up and down the carriage-road, his countenance as 
demure as if he had no idea of suddenly departing 
when my back should be turned. The wheels of the 
goat-carriage uttered the most heart-rending noises I 
had ever heard from ungreased axle ; so I persuaded the 
boys to dismount, and submit to the temporary unhar- 
nessing of the goat, while I should lubricate the axles. 
Half an hour of dirty work sufficed, with such assistance 
as I gained from juvenile advice, to accomplish the 
task properly ; then I put the horned steed into the 
shafts. Budge cracked the whip, the carriage moved 
off without noise, and Toddie began to weep bitterly. 


168 


HELENAS BABIES, 


"Cawwidge is all bwoke,” said he; wheelsh donH 
sing a hitiie no more,^^ while Budge remarked : — 

” I think the carriage sounds kind o’ lonesome now, 
don’t you, Uncle Harry?” 

Uncle Harry,” asked Budge, a little later in the 
morning, ” do you know what makes the thunder ? ” 

"Yes, Budge — when two clouds go bump into each 
other they make a good deal of noise, and they call it 
thunder.” 

" That aint it at all,” said Budge. " When it thun- 
dered yesterday it was because the Lord was riding 
along through the sky, and the wheels of his carriage 
made an awful noise, an’ that was the thunder.” 

"Don’t like nashty old ’funder,” remarked Toddie. 
" It goesh into our cellar an’ makesh all ze milk sour — 
Maggie said so. An’ so I can’t hazh no nice white tea 
for my brepspup.” 

" I should think you’d like the Lord to go a-ridin’, 
Toddie, with all the angels running after him,” said 
Budge, "even if the thunder does make the milk sour. 
And it’s so splendid to see the thunder bang.” 

" How do you see it. Budge ? ” I asked. 

" 'VMiy, don’t you know when the thunder bangs, and 


BELEN^S BABIES, 


169 


then you see an awful bright place in the sky? — that’s 
where the Lord’s carriage gives an awful pound, and 
makes little cracks through the floor of heaven, an’ we 
see right in. But what’s the reason we can’t ever see 
anybody through the cracks. Uncle Harry?” 

" I don’t know, old fellow, — I guess it’s because it 
isn’t cracks in heaven that look so bright, — it’s a kind 
of fire that the Lord makes up in the clouds. You’ll 
know all about it when you get bigger.” 

''Well, I’ll feel awful sorry if ’taint anything but 
fire. Do you know that funny song my papa sings 
’bout : — 


“ * Roarin’ thunders, lightenin’s blazes, 

Shout the great Creator’s praises ’ P 

I don’t know zactly what it means, but I think it’s kind 
o’ splendid, don’t you?” 

I did know the old song ; I had heard it in a West- 
ern camp-meeting, when scarcely older than Budge, 
and it left upon my mind just the efiect it seemed to 
have done on his. I blessed his sympathetic young 
heart, and snatched him into my arms. Instantly, he 
became all boy again. 


170 


HELENAS BABIES, 


Uncle Hany,” he shouted, ''3'^ou crawl on your 
hands and knees and play you was a horse, and TU 
ride on your back.” 

*^No, thank you, Budge, not on the dirt.” 

”Then let’s play menagerie, an’ you be all the 
animals.” 

To this proposition I assented, and after hiding our- 
selves in one of the retired angles of the house, so 
that no one could know who was guilty of disturbing 
the peace by such dire noises, the performance com- 
menced. I was by turns a bear, a lion, a zebra, an 
elephant, dogs of various kinds, and a cat. As I per- 
sonated the latter-named animal, Toddie echoed my 
voice. 

Mauw I Miauw I ” said he, dat’s what cats saysh 
when they goesh down wells.” 

"Faith, an’ it’s him that knows,” remarked Mike, 
who had invited himself to a free seat in the menag- 
erie, and assisted in the applause which had greeted 
each personation. "Would ye belave it, Misther 
Harry, dhat young dhivil got out the front door one 
moniin’ afore sunroise, all in his little noight-gown, an’ 
wint over to the docthor’s an’ picked up a kitten lyin’ 


HELENAS BABIES. 


171 


on the kitchen door-mat, an’ throwed it down dhe well. 
The docthor wasn’t home, but the missis saw him, 
an’ her heart was dhat tindher dhat she hurried out and 
throw^ed boords dowm for dhe poor little baste to stand 
on, an’ let down a hoe on a sthring, an’ whin she got 
dhe poor little dhing out, she was dhat faint that she 
dhrapped on dhe grass. An’ it cost Mr. Lawrence 
nigh onto thirty dollars to have dhe docthor’s well 
claned out.” 

" Yes,” said Toddie, w^ho had listened carefully to 
Mike’s recital, "an’ kitty-kitty said, *Miauw! Miauw!’ 
when she goed down ze well. An’ IVIish Doctor sed, 
* Bad boy — go home — don’t never turn .to my housh 
no more,’ — dat’s what she said to me. Now be some 
more animals, Ocken Hawivy. Can’t you be a 
whay-al?” 

"Whales don’t make a noise, Toddie; they only 
splash about in the water.” 

" Zen grop in the cistern an’ ’plash, can’t you?” 


Lunch-time, and after it the time for Toddie to take 
his nap. Poor Budge was bereft of a playmate, for 


172 


HELENAS BABIES, 


the doctor’s little girl was sick ; so he quietly followed 
me about with a wistful face, that almost persuaded me 
to take him with me on my drive — our drive. Had he 
grumbled, I would have felt less uncomfortable; but 
there’s nothing so touching and overpowering to either 
gods or men, as the spectacle of mute resignation. 
At last, to my great relief, he opened his mouth. 

"Uncle Harry,” said he, "do you ’spose folks ever 
get lonesome in heaven ? ” 

" I guess not, Budge.” 

" Do little boy-angels* papas an* mammas go off vis- 
itin’, an’ stay ever so long ? ” 

"I don’t exactly know. Budge, but if they do, the 
little boy angels have plenty of other little boy angels 
to play with, so they can’t very well be lonesome.” 

"Well, I don’t b’leeve they could make me happy, 
when I wanted to see my papa an’ mamma. When I 
haven’t got anybody to play with, then I want papa an* 
mamma so bad — so bad as if I would die if I didn’t 
see ’em right away.” 

1 was shaving, and only half-done, but I hastily 
wiped off my face, dropped into a rocking-chair, took 
the forlorn little boy into my arms, and kissed him, 


HBLBN^S BABIES. 


178 


caressed him, sympathized with him, and devoted my- 
self entirely to the task and pleasure of comforting him. 
Ilis sober little face giadually assumed a happier 
appearance ; his lips parted in such lines as no old 
master ever put upon angel-lips ; his eyes, from being 
dim and hopeless, grew warm and lustrous and melting. 
At last he said : — 

" Uncle Harry, I’m ever so happy now. An’ can’t 
Mike go around with me and the goat all the time 
your’e away riding? An’ bring us home some candy, 
an’ marbles — oh, yes — an’ a new dog.” 

Anxious as I was to hurry off to meet my engage 
ment, I was rather disgusted as I unseated Budge and 
returned to my razor. So long as ho was lonesome 
and I was his only hope, words couldn’t express his 
devotion, but the moment he had, through my efforts, 
regained his spirits, his only use for me was to ask far- 
ther favors. Yet in trying the poor boy, judicially, 
the evidence was more dangerous to humanity in gen- 
eral than to Budge ; it threw a great deal of light upon 
my own peculiar theological puzzles, and almost con- 
vinced me that my duty was to preach a new gospel. 


174 


HELENAS BABIES. 


As I drove up to the steps of Mrs. Clarkson’s board- 
ing-house it seemed to me a month had elapsed since 
last I was there, and this apparent lapse of time was all 
that prevented my ascribing to miraculous agencies the 
wonderful and delightful change that Alice’s counte- 
nance had undergone in two short days. Composure, 
quickness of perception, the ability to guard one’s self, 
are indications of character which are particularly in 
place in the countenance of a young lady in society, 
but when, without losing these, the face takes on the 
radiance bora of love and trust, the effect is indescriba- 
bly charming — especially to the eyes of the man who 
causes the change. Longer, more out-of-the-way roads 
between Hillcrest and the Falls I venture to say were 
never known than I drove ov^er that afternoon, and my 
happy companion, who in other days I had imagined 
might one day, by her decision, alertness and force 
exceed the exploits of Lady Baker or Miss Tinne, never 
once asked if I was sure we were on the right road. 
Only a single cloud came over her brow, and of this I 
Boon learned the cause. 

” Harry,” said she, pressing closer to my side, and 


HELEN'S BASIES, 


175 


taking an appealing tone, "do you love me well enough 
to endure something unpleasant for my sake ? 

My answer was not verbally expressed, but its pur* 
port seemed to be understood and accepted, for Alice 
continued : — 

1 wouldn’t undo a bit of what’s happened — I’m the 
happiest, proudest woman in the world. But we have 
been very hasty, for people who have been mere 
acquaintances. And mother is dreadfully opposed to 
such ahairs — she is of the old style, you know.” 

"It was all my fault,” said I. **I’ll apologize 
promptly and handsomely. The time and agony which 
I didn’t consume in laying siege to your heart. I’ll de- 
vote to the task of gaining your mother’s good graces.” 

The look I received in reply to this remark would 
have richly repaid me had my task been to conciliate 
as many mothers-in-law as Brigham Young possesses. 
But her smile faded as she said ; — 

" You don’t know what a task you have before you. 
Mother has a very tender heart, but it’s thoroughly 
fenced in by proprieties. In her day and set, courtship 
was a very slow, stately aflair, and mother believes it 
the proper way now ; so do I, but I admit possible ex- 


176 


Helen's babies. 


ceptions, and mother doesn’t. I’m afraid she won’t be 
patient if she knows the whole truth, yet I can’t bear 
to keep it from her. I’m her only child, you know.” 

” Don't keep it from her,” said I, ” unless for some 
reason of your own. Let me tell the whole story, 
take all the responsibility, and accejit the penalties, if 
there are any. Your mother is right in principle, 
if there is a certain delightful exception that we know 
of.” 

”My only fear is for you” said my darling, nestling 
closer to me. ” She comes of a family that can display 
most glorious indignation when there’s a good excuse 
for it, and I can’t bear to think of you being the cause 
of such an outbreak.” 

” I’ve faced the ugliest of guns in honor of one form 
of love, little girl,” I replied, "and I could do even 
more for the sentiment for which you're to blame. 
And for my own sake, I’d rather endure anything than 
a sense of having deceived any one, especially the 
mother of such a daughter. Besides, you’re her dear- 
est treasure, and she has a right to know of even the 
leajst thing that in any way concerns you.” 

"And you’re a noble fellow, and — ” Whatever 


BELEN*S BABIES, 


177 


other sentiment my companion failed to put into words 
'’^as impulsively and eloquently communicated by her 
dear eyes. 

But oh, what a cowardly heart your dear cheek 
rested upon an instant later, fair Alice I Not for the 
first time in my life did I shrink and tremble at the 
realization of what duty imperatively required — not 
for the first time did I go through a harder battle than 
was ever fought with sword and cannon, and a battle 
with greater possibilities of danger than the field ever 
ofiered. I won it, as a man must do in such fights^ if 
he deserves to live ; but I could not help feeling con- 
siderably sobered on our homeward drive. 

"VVe neared the house, and I had an insane fancy that 
Instead of driving two horses I was astride of one, 
with spurs at my heels and a sabre at my side. 

" Let me talk to her now^ Alice, won’t you ? Delays 
are only cowardly.” 

A slight trembling at my side, — an instant of 
silence that seemed an hour, yet within which I could 
count but six footfalls, and Ahce replied : — 

Yes ; if the parlor happens to be empty, I’ll ask 
her if she won’t go in and see you a moment.” Then 
12 


J78 


HELEN 8 BABIES. 


there came a look full of tenderness, wonder, painful 
Bolicitude, and then two dear eyes filled with tears. 

We’re nearly there, darling,” said I, with a re- 
assuring embrace. 

"Yes, and you shan’t be the only hero,” said she, 
straightening herself proudly, and looking a fit model 
for a Zenobia 

As we passed from behind a clump of evergreens 
which hid the house from our view, I involuntarily 
exclaimed, Gracious ! ” Upon the piazza stood Mrs. 
Ma}i;on ; at her side stood my two nephews, as dii*ty 
in face, in clothing, as I had ever seen them. I dim’t 
know but that for a moment I freely forgave them, tor 
their presence might grant me the respite which a 
sense of duty would not allow me to take. 

"Wezhe corned up to wide home wif you,” ex- 
claimed Toddie, as Mrs. Mayton greeted me with an 
odd mixture of courtesy curiosity and humor. Alice 
led the way into the parlor, whispered to her mother, 
and commenced to make a rapid exit, when Mrs. May- 
ton called her back, and motioned her to a chair. 
Alice and 1 exchanged sidelong glances. 

" Alice says you wish to speak with me, Mr. Bur 


HELENAS BABIES. 


179 


ton,” said she. " I wonder whether the subject is one 
upon which I have this afternoon received a minute 
verbal account from the elder Master Lawrence.” 

Alice looked blank; — I am sure that I did. But 
safety could lie only in action, so I stammered out : — 

** If you refer to an apparently unwarrantable intru- 
sion upon your family circle, Mrs. — ” 

" I do, sir,” replied the old lady. Between the 
statements made by that child, and the hitherto unac- 
countable change in my daughter’s looks during two or 
three days, I think I have got at the truth of the mat- 
ter. If the offender were any one else, I should be 
inclined to be severe ; but we mothers of only daugh- 
ters are apt to have a pretty distinct idea of the merits 
of young men, and — ” 

The old lady dropped her head ; I sprang to my 
feet, seized her hand, and reverently kissed it ; then 
Mrs. Mayton, whose only son had died fifteen years 
before, raised her head and adopted me in the manner 
peculiar to mothers, while Alice burst into tears, and 
kissed us both. 

A few moments later, as three happy people were 
occupying conventional attitudes, and trying to com- 


180 


HELENAS BABIES, 


pose faces which should bear the inspection of whoeyer 
might happen into the parlor, Mrs. Mayton observed : — 

” My children, between us this matter is imderstood, 
but I must caution you against acting in such a way as 
to make the engagement public at once.” 

Trust me for that,” hastily exclaimed Alice. 

” And me,” said I. 

" I have no doubt of the intentions and discretion of 
either of you,” resumed Mrs. Mayton, ” but you cannot 
possibly be too cautious.” Here a loud laugh from the 
shrubbery under the windows drowned Mrs. Mayton’s 
voice for a moment, but she continued ; " Servants, 
children ” — here she smiled, and I dropped my head 
— ” persons you may chance to meet ” — 

Again the laugh broke forth under the window. 

"AVhat can those girls be laughing at?” exclaimed 
Alice, moving toward the window, followed by her 
mother and me. 

Seated in a semicircle on the grass were most of the 
ladies boarding at Mrs. Clarkson’s, and in front of 
them stood Toddie, in that high state of excitement t( 
which sympathetic applause always raises him. 

** Say it again,” said one of the ladies. 


HELENAS BASIES, 


181 


Toddie put on an expression of profound wisdom, 
made violent gestures with both hands, and repeated 
the following, with frequent gesticulations : — 

“ Azh wadiant azh ze matchless woze 
Zat poeck-artuss fanshy ; 

Azh fair azh whituss lily-blowzh ; 

Azh moduss azh a panzhy ; 

Azh pure azh dew zat hides wiffin 
Awwahwah’s sun-tissed tsallish ; 

Azh tender azh ze pwimwose fweet, 

All zish, an moah, izh Alish.” 

I gasped for breath. 

”Who taught you all that, Toddie?” asked one of 
the ladies. 

"Nobody didn’t taught mo — I lyned* it.” 

" When did you learn it ? ” 

"Lyned it zish mornin’. Ocken Hawwy said it 
over, an* over, an’ over, djust yots of timezh, out in ze 
garden.” 

The ladies all exchanged glances — my lady readers 
will understand just how, and I assure gentlemen that 
I did not find their glances at all hard to read. Alice 


* Learned. 


182 


helsn's babies. 


looked at me inquiringly, and she now tells me that I 
blushed sheepishly and guiltily. Poor Mrs. Mayton 
staggered to a chair, and exclaimed : — ^ 

” Too late I too late I ” 

Considering their recent achievements, Toddie and 
Budge were a very modest couple as' I drove them 
home that evening. Budge even made some attempt 
at apologizing for their appearance, saying that they 
couldn’t find Maggie, and couldn't wait any longer ; but 
I assured him that no apology was necessary. I was 
in such excellent spirits that my feeling became conta- 
gious ; and we sang songs, told stories, and played 
ridiculous games most of the evening, paying but little 
attention to the dinner that was set for us. 

"Uncle HaiTy,” said Budge, suddenly, "do you 
know we haven’t ever sung, — 

* Drown old Pharoah's Army Hallelnjah,* 

since you’ve been here ? Let’s do it now.” 

"All right, old fellow.” I knew the song — such as 
there was of it — and its chorus, as every one does 
who over heard the Jubilee Singers render it ; but 1 


HELENAS BABIES. 


183 


scarcely understood the meaning of the preparations 
which Budge made. He. drew a large rocking-chair 
into the middle of the room, and exclaimed : — 

” There, Uncle Harry — you sit down. Come along. 
Tod — you sit on that knee, and I’ll sit on this. Lift 
uj) both hands. Tod, like I do. Now we’re all ready, 
Uncle Harry.’.’ 

I sang the first line, — 

“ When Israel was in bondage, they cried unto de Lord,” 

without any assistance, but the boys came in power- 
fully on the refrain, beating time simultaneously with 
their four fists, upon my chest. I cannot think it 
strange that I suddenly ceased singing, but the boys 
viewed my action from a different stand-point. 

*'What makes you stop. Uncle Harry?” asked 
Budge. 

” Because you hurt me badly, my boy ; you mustn’t 
do that again.” 

^ I guess you aint very strong ; that’s the way 
we do to papa, an’ it don’t hurt 

Poor Tom I No wonder he grows flat-chested, 
Guesh you’s a ky-baby,” suggested Toddie. 


184 


HELENAS BABIES, 


lliis imputation I bore with meekness, but ventured 
to remark that it was bedtime. After allowing a few 
moments for the usual expressions of dissent, I stag- 
gered upstairs with Toddie in my arms, and Budge on 
my back, both boys roaring the refrain of the negro 
hymn : — 

“ I’m a rolling through an Unfriendly World.” 

The offer of a stick of candy to whichever boy was 
first undressed, caused some lively disrobing, after 
which each boy received the prize. Budge bit a large 
piece, wedged it between his cheek and his teeth, 
closed his eyes, folded his hands on his breast, and 
prayed : — 

Dear Lord, bless papa an’ mamma, an’ Toddie an’ 
me, an’ that turtle Uncle Harry found : and bless that 
lovely lady Uncle Harry goes ridin’ with, an’ make 
’em take me too, an’ bless that nice old lady with white 
hair, that cried, and said I was a smart boy. Amen.” 

Toddie sighed as he drew his stick of candy from 
bis lips ; then he shut his eyes and remarked : — 

” Dee Lord, blesh Toddie, an’ make him good boy, 
an’ blesh zem ladies zat told me to say it aden ; ” the 


MELEN^S BABIES, 


185 


particular " it ” referred to being well understood by at 
least three adults of my acquaintance. 

The course of Budge’s interview with Mrs. Mayton 
was afterward related by that lady, as follows : — 

She was sitting in her own room (which was on the 
parlor-floor, and in the rear of the house), and was 
leisurely reading "Fated to bo Free,” when she acci- 
dentally dropped her glasses. Stooping to pick them 
up, she became aware that she was not alone. A 
small, very dirty, but good-featured boy stood before 
her, his hands behind his back, and an inquiring look 
in his eyes. 

" Run away, little boy,” said she. " Don’t you know 
it isn’t polite to enter rooms without knocking ? ” 

"I’m lookin’ for my uncle,” said Budge, in most 
melodious accents, " an’ the other ladies said you would 
know when he would come back.” 

"I’m afraid they were making fun of you — or me,” 
said the old lady, a little severely. "I don’t know 
anything about little boys’ uncles. Now run away, 
and don’t disturb me any more.” 

" Well,” continued Budge, " they said your little girl 
went with him, and you’d know when she would come 
back.” 


186 


HELENAS BABIES. 


” I haven’t any little girl,” said the old lady, her indig- 
nation, at a supposed joke, threatening to overcome 
her dignity. ** Now, go away.” 

•* She isn’t a very little girl,” said Budge, honestly 
anxious to conciliate; "that is, she’s bigger’n I am, 
but they said you was her mother, an’ so she’s you’re 
little girl, isn’t she ? I think she’s lovely, too.” 

"Do you mean Miss Mayton?” asked the lady, 
thinking she had a possible clue to the cause of Budge’s 
anxiety. 

" Oh, yes — that’s her name — I couldn’t think of it,” 
eagerly replied Budge. " An’ aint she awful nice ? — 
I hnow she is I ” 

"Your judgment is quite correct, considering your 
age,” said Mrs. Ma}i;on, exhibiting more interest in 
Budge than she had heretofore done. "But what 
makes you think she is nice? You are rather youngei 
than her male admirers usually are.” 

" MTiy, my Uncle Harry told me so,” replied Budge, 
"an’ he knOws everything.” 

Mrs. Ma^rton grew vigilant at once, and dropped hei 
l)Ook. 

" Who is your Uncle Harry, little boy ? ” 


mblen's babies. 


187 


He^s Uncle Harry ; don’t you know him ? He can 
make nicer whistles than my papa can. An’ he found 
a turtle ” — 

” Who is your papa ? ” interrupted the old lady. 

” Why, he’s papa — I thought everybody knew who 
he was.” 

” What is your name ? asked Mrs. Mayton. 

” John Burton Lawrence,” promptly answered Budge. 

Mrs. Mayton wrinkled her brows for a moment, and 
finally asked : — 

” Is Mr. Burton the uncle you are looking for ? ” 

"I don’t know any Mr. Burton,” said Budge, a little 
dazed ; ” uncle is manuna’s brother, an’ he’s been livin’ 
at our house ever since mamma an’ papa went off 
visitin’, an’ he goes ridin’ in our carriage, an” — 

Humph I ” remarked the lady, with so much em- 
phasis that Budge ceased talking. A moment later she 
said ; — 

I didn’t mean to interrupt you, little boy ; go on.” 

— An’ he rides with just the loveliest lady that 
over was. Ue thinks so, an’ I know she is. An he’ 
Bpects her.” 

What ? ” exclaimed the old lady. 


188 


HSLSir^S BABIES. 


— ’Spects her, I say — that’s what he says, /say 
’spect means just what I call lave. Cos if it don’t, what 
makes him give her hugs an’ kisses ? ” 

Mrs. Mayton caught her breath, and did not reply 
for a moment. At last she said ; — 

"How do you know he — gives her hugs and 
kisses ? ” 

" Cos I saw him, the day Toddie hurt his finger in 
the grass-cutter. An’ he was so happy that he bought 
me a goat-carriage next morning — I’ll show it to you 
if you come do^vn to our stable, an’ I’ll show you th« 
goat too. An’ he bought” — 

Just here Budge stopped, for Mrs. Mayton put hei 
handkerchief to her eyes. Two or three momenti 
later she felt a light touch on her knee, and, wiping hei 
eyes, saw Budge looking sympathetically into hei 
face. 

" I’m awful sorry you feel bad,” said he. " Are you 
’fraid to have your little girl ridin’ so long?” 

" Yes 1 ” exclaimed Mrs. Ma 3 i;on, with great decis- 
ion. 

" Well, you needn’t be,” said Budge, "for Uncle 
llany’s awfiil careful an’ smart.” 


HELENAS BABIES. 


189 


"He ought to be ashamed of himself I” exclaimed 
the lady. 

"I guess he is, then,” said Budge, "cos he’s ev’ry- 
thing he ought to be. He’s awful careful. T’other 
day, when the goat ran away, an’ Toddie an me got in 
the carriage with them, he held on to her tight, so she 
couldn’t fall out.” 

Mrs. Mayton brought her foot down with a violent 
stamp. 

"I know you’d ’spect him, if you knew how nice he 
was,” continued Budge. " He sings awful funny songs, 
an’ tells splendid stories.” 

" Nonsense I ” exclaimed the angry mother. 

"They aint no nonsense at all,” said Budge. "1 
don’t think it’s nice for to say that, when his stories are 
always about Joseph, an’ Abraham, an Moses, an’ when 
Jesus was a little boy, an’ the Hebrew children, an’ lots 
of people that the Lord loved. An’ he’s awful ’fection- 
ate, too.” 

"Yes, I suppose so,” said Mrs. Mayton. 

" When we says oiu* prayers we prays for the nice 
lady what he ’spects, an’ he likes us to do it,” contin- 
ued Budge. 


190 


Helen's babies. 


^ How do you know ? ” demanded Mrs. Mayton. 

” Cos he always kisses us when we do it, an* that’s 
what my papa does when he likes what we pray.” 

Mrs. Mayton’s mind became absorbed in earnest 
thought, but Budge had not said all that was in his 
heart. 

**An* when Toddie or me tumbles down an* hurts 
ourselves, ’taint no matter what Uncle Harry’s doin’ he 
runs right out an* picks us up an’ comforts us. He 
froed away a cigar the other day, he was in such a hurry 
when a wasp stung me, an’ Toddie picked the cigar up 
and ate it, an* it made him awful sick.” 

The last-named incident did not affect Mrs. IMayton 
deeply, perhaps on the score of inapplicability to the 
question before her. Budge went on : — 

” An’ wasn’t he good to me to-day? Just cos I was 
forlorn, cos I hadn’t nobody to play with, an* wanted 
to die an* go to heaven, he stopped shavin*, so as to 
comfort me.” 

Mrs. Mayton had been thinking rapidly and seri- 
ously, and her heart had relented somewhat toward che 
principal offender. 


MBLBN*8 BABIES. 


191 


Suppose,” said she, **that I don’t let my little girl 
go riding with him any more ? ” 

” Then,” said Badge, " I know he’ll be awful, awful 
unhappy, an’ I’ll be awful sorry for him, cos nice folks 
oughtn’t to be made unhappy.” 

"Suppose, then, that I do let her go,” said Mrs. 
Mayton. 

" Then I’ll give you a whole stomachful of kisses for 
being so good to my uncle,” said Budge. And assum- 
ing that the latter course would be the one adopted by 
Mrs. Mayton, Budge climbed into her lap and began at 
once to make payment. 

" Bless your dear little heart ! ” exclaimed Mrs. May- 
ton ; " you’re of the same blood, and it is good, if it is 
rather hasty.” 

As I rose the next morning, I found a letter under 
my door. Disappointed that it was not addressed in 
Alice’s writing, I was nevertheless glad to get a word 
from my sister, particularly as the letter ran as 
follows : — 

“July 1,1875. 

“ Deab old Brother, — I’ve been recalling a fortnight’s ex- 
perience we once had of courtship in a boarding-house, and I’ve 


192 


Helen's babies. 


determined to cut short our visit here, hurry home, and give you 
and Alice a chance or two to see each other in parlors where 
there won’t be a likelihood of the dozen or two interruptions you 
must suffer each evening now. Tom agrees with me, like the 
obedient old darling that he is ; so please have the carriage at 
Hillcrest station for us at 11.40 Friday morning. Invite Alice 
and her mother for me to dine with us Sunday, — we’ll bring 
them home from church with us. 

“ Lovingly, your sister, 

“ Helen. 

“ P. S. Of course you’ll have my darlings in the carriage to 
receive me. 

* ‘ P. P. S. Would it annoy you to move into the best guest-cham- 
ber P — 1 can’t bear to sleep where I can’t have them within reach .” 

Friday morning they intended to arrive, — blessings 
on their thoughtful hearts I — and this was Friday. I 
hurried into the boys’ room, and shouted : — 

" Toddie I Budge I who do you think is coming to 
see you this morning ? ” 

” "^VTio ? ” asked Budge. 

” Organ-grinder ? ” queried Toddie. 

”No, your papa and mamma.” 

Budge looked like an angel in an instant, but Tod« 


HELENAS BABIES, 


193 


die’s eyes twitched a little, aud he mournfully mur- 
mured : — 

I fought it wash au organ-grinder.” 

O Uncle Harry I ” said Budge, springing out of 
bed in a perfect delirium of delight, '' I believe if my 
papa an’ mamma had stayed away any longer, I believe 
I would die, I’ve been so lonesome for ’em that I 
haven’t known what to do — I’ve cried whole pillows- 
ful about it, right here in the dark.” 

** Why, my poor old fellow,” said I, picking him up 
and kissing him, why didn’t you come and tell Uncle 
Harry, and let him try to comfort you ? ” 

" I couldn't , said Budge ; " when I gets lonesome, it 
feels as if my mouth was all tied up, an’ a great big 
stone was right in here.” And Budge put his hand on 
his chest. 

**If a big ’tone wazh inshide of me," said Toddie, 
** I’d take it out an’ frow it at the shickens.” 

" Toddie,” said I, aren’t you glad papa an’ mamma 
are coming?” 

"Yesh,” said Toddie, "I fink it’ll be awfoo nish. 
Mamma always bwings me candy fen she goes away 
anyfere.” 

Id 


194 


HELENAS BABIES, 


** Toddie, you’re a mercenary wretch.” 

Aint a mernesary wetch ; Izhe Toddie Yawiicie.” 

Toddie made none the less haste in dressing than his 
brother, however. Candy was to him what some sys- 
tems of theology are to their adherents — not a very 
lofty motive of action, but sweet, and something he 
could fully understand ; so the energy displayed in get- 
ting himself tangled up in his clothes was something 
wonderful. 

”Stop, bo 3 ^s,” said I, "you must have on clean 
clothes to-day. You don’t want your father and mother 
to see you all dirty, do you ? ” 

"Of course not,” said Budge. 

" Oh, izh I goin’ to be djessed up all nicey ? ” asked 
Toddie. " Goody I goody I goody 1 ” 

I always thought my sister Helen had an undue 
amount of vanity, and here it was reappearing in the 
second generation. 

"An’ I wantsh my shoes made all nigger,” said 
Toddie. 

- "What?” 

"Wantsh my shoesh made all nigger wif a bottle- 
bwush, too,” said Toddie, 


HELENAS BABIES, 


195 


1 looked appealingly at Budge, who answered : — 

**He means he wants his shoes blacked, with the 
polish that’s in a bottle, an’ you rub it on with a brush.’^ 

” An’ I wantsh a thath on,” continued Toddie. 

"Sash, he means,” said Budge. "He% awful 
proud.” 

" An’ Ize doin’ to wear my takker-hat,” said Toddie. 
" An’ my wed djuvs.” 

" That’s his tassel-hat an’ his red gloves,” continued 
the interpreter. 

"Toddie, you can’t wear gloves such hot days aa 
these,” said I. 

A look of inquiry was speedily followed by Toddie’s 
own unmistakable preparations for weeping ; and as I 
did not want his eyes dimmed when his mother looked 
into them I hastily exclaimed : — 

"Put them on, then — put on the mantle of rude 
Boreas, if you choose ; but don’t go to crying.” 

" Don’t want no mantle-o’-wude-bawyusses,” declared 
Toddie, following me phonetically, "wantsh my own 
pitty cozhesh, an’ nobody eshesh.” 

" O Uncle Harry 1 ” exclaimed Budge, " I want ta 
bring mamma home in my goat-carriage I ” 


196 


HELEN S BABIES, 


''The goat isn’t strong enough, Budge, to draw 
mamma and you.” 

"Well, then, let me drive down to the depot, just to 
thow papa an’ mamma I’ve got a goat-carriage — I’m 
sure mamma would be very unhappy when she found 
out I had one, and she hadn’t seen it first thing.” 

" WeU, I guess you may follow me down. Budge , 
"but you must drive very carefully.” 

" Oh, yes — I wouldn’t get us hurt when mamma was 
coming, for anything.” 

" Now, boys,” said I, " I want you to stay in the house 
and play this morning. K you go out of doors you’ll 
get yourselves dirty.” 

" I guess the sun ’ll be disappointed if it don’t have 
us to look at,” suggested Budge. 

"Never mind,” said I, "the sun’s old enough to have 
learned to be patient.” 

Breakfast over, the boys moved reluctantly away to 
the play-room, while I inspected the house and grounds 
pretty closely, to see that everything should at least 
fail to do my management discredit. A dollar given 
to Mike and another to Maggie were of material assist- 
ance in this work, so I felt free to adorn the parlors 


HELENAS BABIES. 


197 


and Helen’s chamber with flowers. As I went into the 
latter room I heard some one at the wash-stand, which 
was in an alcove, and on looking in I saw Toddie 
drinking the last of the contents of a goblet which con- 
tained a dark-colored mixture. 

** Izhe tatin black medshin,” said Toddie ; ” I likes 
black medshin awfoo muts.” 

”What do you make it of?” I asked, with some 
sympathy, and tracing parental influence again. When 
Helen and I were children we spent hours in soaking 
liquorice in water and administering it as medicine. 
^^Makesh it out of shoda mitsture,” said Toddie. 

This was another medicine of our childhood days, 
but one prepared according to physicians’ prescription, 
and not beneficial when taken ad libilum. As I took the 
vial — a two-ounce-one — I asked : — 

” How much did you take, Toddie ? ” 

” Took whole bottoo full — twas nysh,” said he. 
Suddenly the label caught my eye — it read PARE- 
GORIC. In a second I had snatched a shawl, wrapped 
Toddie in it, tucked him under my arm, and was on 
my w'ay to the barn. In a moment more I was on one 
of the horses and galloping furiously to the village, 


198 


helen'^s babies. 


with Toddie under one arm, his yellow curls streaming 
in the breeze. People came out and stared as they did 
at John Gilpin, while one old farmer whom I met 
turned his team about, whipped up furiously, and fol- 
lowed me, shouting " Stop thief I” I afterward learned 
that he took me to be one of the abductors of Charley 
Ross, with the lost child under my arm, and that vis- 
ions of the $20,000 reward floated before his eyes. In 
front of an apothecar^^’s I brought the horse suddenly 
upon his haunches, and dashed in, exclaiming : — 

” Give this child a strong emetic — quick I He’s 
swallowed poison I ” 

The apothecary hurried to his prescription-desk, 
while a motherly-looking Irishwoman upon whom he 
had been waiting, exclaimed, ''Iloly IMither I I’ll rim 
an’ fetch Father O’Kelley,” and hurried out. Mean- 
while Toddie, upon whom the medicine had not com- 
menced to take efiect, had seized the apothecary’s cat 
by the tail, -which operation resulted in a considerable 
vocal protest from that animal. 

The ex^^eriences of the next few moments were more 
pronounced and revolutionary than pleasing to relate in 
detail. It is sufficient to say that Toddie’s weight was 


HELEN S BABIES, 


199 


materially* diminished, and that his complexion was 
temporarily pallid. Father O’Kclley arrived at a 
brisk run, and was honestly glad to hud that his ser- 
vices were not required, although I assured him that 
if Catholic baptism and a sprinkling of holy water 
would improve Toddie’s character, I thought there was 
excuse for several applications. We rode quietly back 
to the house, and while I was asking Maggie to try to 
coax Toddie into taldng a nap, I heard the patient 
remark to his brother : — 

Budgie, down to the village I was a whay-al. I 
didn’t froe up Djonah, but I froed up a whole floor full 
of uwer fings.” 

During the hour which passed before it was time to 
start for the depot, my sole attention was devoted to 
keeping the children from soiling their clothes ; but my 
success was so little, that I lost my temper entirely. 
First they insisted upon playing on a part of the lawn 
which the sun had not yet reached. Then, while I 
had gone into the house for a match to light my cigar, 
Toddie had gone with his damp shoes into the middle 
of the road, where the dust was ankle deep. Then 


200 


HELENAS BABIES. 


they got upon their hands and knees' on the piazza and 
played bear. Each one wanted to pick a bouquet for his 
mother, and Toddie took the precaution to smell every 
flower he approached — an operation which caused him 
to get his nose covered with bly-pollen, so that he 
looked like a badly used prize-fighter. In one of their 
spasms of inaction, Budge asked : — 

” What makes some of the men in church have no 
hair on the tops of their heads. Uncle Harry?” 

"Because,” said I, pausing long enough to shake 
Toddie for trying to get my watch out of my pocket, 
" because they have bad little boys to bother them all 
the time, so their hair drops out.” 

" I dess my hairs is a-goin’ to drop out pitty soon, 
then,” remarked Toddie, with an injured air. 

" Harness the horses, Mike,” I shouted. 

" An’ the goat, too,” added Budge. 

Five minutes later I was seated in the carriacre, or 
rather in Tom’s two-seated open wagon. "Mike,” I 
shouted, "I. forgot to tell Maggie to have some lunch 
ready for the folks when they get here — run, tell her, 
quick, won’t you ? ” 

"Oye, oye, sur,” said Mike, and ofl* he wen^. 


HELENAS BABIES. 


201 


Are you all ready, boys ? ” I asked. 

”In a minute,” said Budge; ”soon as I fix this. 
Now,” he continued, getting into his seat, and taking 
the reins and whip, ”go ahead.” 

" Wait a moment. Budge — put down that whip, and 
don’t touch the goat with it once on the way. I’m 
going to drive very slowly — there’s plenty of time, 
and all you need to do is to hold your reins.” 

"All right,” said Budge, "but I like to look like 
mans when I drive.” 

” You may do that when somebody can run beside 
you. Now I ” 

The horses started at a gentle trot, and the goat 
followed very closely. When within a minute of the 
depot, however, the train swept in. I had intended to 
be on the platform to meet Tom and Helen, but my 
watch was evidently slow. I gave the horses the whip, 
looked behind and saw the boys were close upon me, 
and I was so near the platform when I turned my head 
that nothing but the sharpest of turns saved me from a 
severe accident. The noble animals saw the danger as 
quickly as I did, however, and turned in marvellously 
small space ; as they did so, I heard two hard thumps 


202 


HELENAS BABIES. 


upon Hie wooden wall of the little depot, heard also two 
frightful howls, saw both my nephews considerably 
mixed up on the platform, while the driver of the 
Bloom-Park stage growled in my ear : — 

" AYhat in thunder did you let ’em hitch that goat to 
your axle-tree for ? ” 

I looked, and saw the man spoke with just cause. 
How the goat’s head and shoulders had maintained their 
normal connection during the last minute of my drive, 
I leave for naturalists to explain. I had no time to 
meditate on the matter just then, for the train had 
stopped. Fortunately the children had struck on their 
heads, and the Lawrence-Burton skull is a marvel of 
solidity. I set them upon their feet, brushed them off 
with my hands, promised them all the candy they could 
eat for a week, wiped their eyes, and hurried them to 
the other side of the depot. Budge rushed at Tom, 
<^xclaiming : — 

" See my goat, papa I ” 

Helen opened her arms, and Toddie threw himself 
into them, sobbing : — 

” hlam — ma I shing * Toddie one-boy-day I ’ ” 

How uncomfortable a man can feel in the society of 


HELENAS BABIES, 


203 


a dearly-loved sister, and an incomparable brother -In- 
law I never imagined until that short drive. Helen 
was somewhat concerned about the children, but she 
found time to look at me with so much of sympathy, 
humor, affection, and condescension that I really felt 
relieved when we reached the house. I hastily retired 
to my own room, but before I had shut the door Helen 
was with me, and her arms were about my neck ; before 
the dear old girl removed them we had grown far 
nearer to each other than we had ever been before. 

And how gloriously the rest of the day passed off. 
We had a delightful little lunch, and Tom brought up 
a bottle of Eoederer, and Helen didn’t remonstrate 
when he insisted on its being drank from her finest 
glasses, and there were toasts drank to " Her ” and ” Her 
Mother,” and to the Benedict that was to be. And then 
Helen proposed "the makers of the match — Budge 
and Toddie I ” which was honored with bumpers. The 
gentlemen toasted did not respond, but they stared so 
curiously that I sprang from my chair and kissed them 
soimdly, upon which Tom and Helen exchanged 
significant glances. 

I’hen Helen walked down to Mrs. Clarkson’s board- 


204 


HELENAS BABIES. 


ing-house, all for the purpose of showing a lady there, 
with a skirt to make over, just how she had seen a 
similar garment rearranged exquisitely. And Alice 
strolled down to the gate with her to say good-by ; 
and they had so much to talk about that Helen walked 
Alice nearly to our house, and then insisted on her 
coming the rest of the way so she might be driven 
home. And then Mike was sent back with a note to 
say to Mrs, Mayton that her daughter had been pre- 
vailed upon to stay to evening dinner, but would be 
sent home under capable escort. And after dinner 
was over and the children put to bed, Tom groaned 
that he must attend a road-board meeting, and Helen 
begged us to excuse her just a minute while she ran 
into the doctor’s to ask how poor Mrs. Brown had been 
doing, and she consumed three hours and twenty-five 
minutes in asldng, bless her sympathetic soul I 

The dreaded ending of my vacation did not cause 
me as many pangs as I had expected*. Helen wanted 
to know one evening why if her poor, dear Tom could 
go back and forth to the city to business every day, her 
lazy big brother couldn’t go back and forth to Hillcrest 
daily, if she were to want him as a boarder for the re- 


HELEN'S BABIES. 


205 


mainder of the season. Although I had foi years in- 
veighed against the fotily of cultivated people leaving 
the city to find residences, Helen’s argument was un- 
answerable and I submitted. I did even more ; I pur- 
chased a lovely bit of ground (though the deed stands 
in Tom’s name for the present) , and Tom has brought 
up several plans of cottage-houses, and every evening 
they are spread on the dining-room table, and there 
gather round them four people, among whom are a 
white goods salesman, and a young lady with the 
brightest of eyes, and cheeks full of roses and lilies. 
This latter-named personage has her own opinions of 
the merits of all plans suggested, and insisted that 
whatever plan is adopted must have a lovely room to 
be set apart as the exclusive property of Helen’s boys. 
Toung as these gentlemen are I find frequent occasions 
to be frightfully jealous of them, but they are unmoved 
by either my frowns or persuasions — artifice alone is 
able to prevent their monopolizing the time of an ador- 
able being of whose society I cannot possibly have too 
much. She insists that when the ceremony takes 
place in December, they shall officiate as groomsmen, 
and I have not the slightest doubt that she will carry 


206 


HELENAS BABIES. 


lier point. In fact, I confess to frequent affectionate 
advances toward them myself, and when I retire 
without first seeking their room and putting a grate- 
ful kiss upon their unconscious lips, my conscience 
upbraids me with base ingratitude. To think I 
might yet be a hopeless bachelor had it not been for 
them, is to overflow with thankfulness to the giver of 
Helen’s Babies. 

THE end. 


JUST PUBLISHED-“BEETHA’S BABY.” 

Bertha’s Baby. IVith an Illustrated Cover, and a Portrait of " Bertha' s Baby " 
on it. By Gustave Droz. Published by T. B. Peterson Brothers, Philada. 

“Bertha's Baby” is a companion to “Helen's Babies,” and every person that 
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all Railroad Trains, or copies of it will be sent to any one, to any place, at once, on 
remitting the price of it in a letter to the Publishers, T. B. Peterson ^ Brothers, 
P-hiladelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON and BROTHERS’ NEW BOOKS. 


PETERSONS’ SaUARE 12mo. SERIES. 

The following books are all printed on tinted paper, and are each issued in 
uniform style, in square \2mo. form. Price Fifty Cents each in Paper 
Cover, or $1.00 each in Morocco Cloth, Black and Gold. 
Helen’s Babies. Budge and Toddie. By John Habberton. With an 
Illustrated Cover, and Portraits of “Budge” and “Toddie,” and others. 
Bertha’s Baby. Equal to “Helen’s Babies.” Bertha’s Baby. With an 
Illustrated Cover, and a Portrait of “Bertha’s Baby” on it. 

Fanchon, the Cricket ; or, La Petite Fadette. By George Sand. 

Two Ways to Matrimony j or. Is it Love? or, False Pride. 

The Matchmaker. By Beatrice Reynolds. A Charming Love Story. 
Bessie’s Six Lovers. A Charming Love Story. By Henry Peterson. 

The Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray. 
The Amours of Philippe ; or, Philippe’s Love Affairs, by Octave Feuillet. 
Sybil Brotherton. A Novel. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

The History of a Parisienne. Octave Feuillet’s new and greatest work. 
Raney Cottem’s Courtship. By author of “Major Jones’s Courtship.’' 
Father Tom and the Pope; or, A Night at the Vatican. Illustrated. 

A Woman’s Mistake; or, Jacques de Tr^vannes. A Charming Love Story. 
The Days of Madame Pompadour. By Gabrielle De St. Andre. 
Madeleine. A Charming Love Story. Jules Sandeau’s Prize Novel. 
Carmen. By Prosper Merimee. Book the Opera toas dramatized from. 
The Little Countess. By Octave Feuillet, author of “ Count De Camors.” 
The Red Hill Tragedy. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

The American L’Assommoir. A parody on Zola’s “ L’Assommoir.” 

Hyde Park Sketches. A very humorous and entertaining work. 

Miss Margery’s Roses. A Charming Love Story. By Robert C. Meyers. 
Madame Pompadour’s Garter. A Romance of the Reign of Louis XV. 
That Girl of Mine. By the author of “ That Lover of Mine.” 

That Lover of Mine. By the author of “ That Girl of Mine.” 

Above are in paper cover, price 50 cents each, or $1.00 each in cloth, 

PETERSONS’ SaUARE 12mo. SERIES. 

The Initials. A. Z. By Baroness Tautphoeus. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.25. 
The Bridal Eve; or. Rose Elmer. By Mrs. Southworth. Paper, 75 cents. 
Vidocq 1 The French Detective. Illustrated. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Camille; or. The Fate of a Coquette. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 

My Hero. A Love Story. By Mrs. Forrester. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.00. 
Paul Hart; or. The Love of His Life. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Monsieur, Ma’dame, and the Baby. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
The Exiles. The Russian ‘ RobinsoriTrusoe.’ Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Mildred’s Cadet ; or. Hearts and Bell-Buttons. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Major Jones’s Courtship. 21 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Major Jones’s Georgia Scenes. 12 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Major Jones’s Travels. 8 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Simon Suggs’ Adventures. 10 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.00. 
Louisiana Swamp Doctor. 6 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Bellah. A Love Story. By Octave Feuillet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Sabine’s Falsehood. A Love Story. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 


1^* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price» 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa.. (B) 


T. B. PETERSON and BROTHERS’ NEW BOOKS. 


PETERSONS’ SaUARE 12mo. SERIES. 

Linda ; or, The Young Pilot of the Belle Creole. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.25. 
The Woman in Black. Illustrated Cover. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Madame Bovary. By Gustave Flaubert. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
The Count de Camors. By Octave Feuillet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
How She Won Him! A Love Story. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Angele’s Fortune. By Andr§ Theuriet. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
St. Maur; or. An Earl’s Wooing. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 

The Earl of Mayfield. By Thomas P. May. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00, 

MRS. BURNETT’S CHARMING STORIES. 

Kathleen. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

Theo. A Love Story. By author of “ Kathleen,” “ Miss Crespigny,” etc. 
Pretty Polly Pemberton. By author of “Kathleen,” “ Theo,” etc. 

A Quiet Life. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of “ Theo.” 
Miss Crespigny. A Charming Love Story. By author of “ Kathleen.” 

Above are in paper cover, price 50 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.00 each. 
Jarl’s Daughter and Other Tales. By Mrs. Burnett. Price 25 cents. 
Lindsay’s Luck. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. Price 25 cents. 

ADOLPHE BELOT’S INGENIOUS NOVELS. 

The Black Venus. By Adolphe Belot. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
La Grande Florine. By Adolphe Belot. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
The Stranglers of Paris. By Adolphe Belot. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

NEW AND GOOD WORKS BY BEST AUTHORS. 

A Heart Twice Won; or. Second Love. A Love Story. By Mrs. Eliza^ 
heth Van Loon. Morocco cloth, black and gold. Price $1.50. 

The Mystery of Allanwold. A Thrilling Novel. By Mrs. Elizabeth Van 
Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth, and gold. Price $1.50. 
Under the Willows; or. The Three Countesses. By Mrs. Elizabeth Van 
Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth, and gold. Price $1.50. 
The Shadow of Hampton Mead. A Charming Story. By Mrs. Elizabeth 
Van Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth. Price $1.50. 
The Last Athenian. By Victor Rydberg. Translated from the Swedish. 

Large 12mo. volume, near 600 pages, cloth, black and gold, price $1.75. 
The Roman Traitor ; or. The Days of Cicero, Cato, and Cataline. A Tale 
of the Republic. By Henry William Herbert. Morocco cloth, price $1.75. 
The Prince of Breffny. By Thomas P. May, of Louisiana. One large 
duodecimo volume, bound in morocco cloth, black and gold, price $1.50. 
Francatelli’s Modern Cook Book. With the most approved methods of 
French, English, German, and Italian Cookery. With Sixty-two Illus- 
trations. One volume, 600 pages, bound in morocco cloth, $5.00. 
Charles Dickens’ Works. New National Edition. 7 volumes, cloth, 20.00 
Charles Dickens’ Works. Illustrated 8vo. Edition. 18 vols., cloth, 27.00 

Charles Dickens’ Works. Neio American Edition. 22 vols., cloth, 38.00 

Charles Dickens’ Works. Oreen Cloth 12»io. Edition. 22 vols., cloth, 44.00 

Charles Dickens’ Works. Illustrated 12mo. Edition. 36 vols., cloth, 45.00 


Above Eooks will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Friodi 
by T. B. Peterson A Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. (C) 


T. 


^MILE ZOLA’S NEW REALISTIC WORKS. 

Nana! Sequel to L’Assoinraoir. By Emile Zoln. Nana! Price 75 cents 
in paper cover, or $1.00 in morocco cloth, black and gold. Nana ! 

Nana’s Mother 5 oi*, L’Assommoir. By Emile Zola. The Greatest Novel 
ever printed. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth. 

Th6rdso Pcoquin. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana,” “ L’Assommoir,” 
etc. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth, black and gold. 
La Cur5e. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana,’^ and “ L’Assommoir.” 

Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth, black and gold. 
Magdalen F5rat. By Emile Zola, of “Nana,” and “L’Assom- 

moir.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 
Clorinda; or. The Court of Napoleon III., during his Reign. By Emile 
Zola. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 
Albine; or. The Abbe’s Temptation. {La Faute De L’Abbe Mouret.) By 
Emile Zola. Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 
H5I&ne, a Love Episode; or, Une Page D’ Amour. By Emile Zola. 

Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 
The Rougon-Macquart Family ; or, Miette. {La Fortune Dea Rougon.) 

By Emile Zola. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

The Markets of Paris; or, Le Ventre de Paris. By Emile Zola. Price 
75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

The Conquest of Plassans; or. La Conquete de Plasaana. By Emile Zola. 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

SEQUEL TO “KANA.” NANA’S DAUGHTER. 

Nana’s Daughter. A Continuation of and Sequel to Emile Zola’s Great 
Realistic Novel of “ Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 

HENRY GR^VILLE’S PATHETIC NOVELS. 

Xeuie’s Inheritance. A Tale of Russian Life. By Henry Greville. 
Saveli’s Expiation. A Powerful Novel. By Henry Gr5ville. 

Dournof. A Russian Story. By Henry Greville, author of “Dosia.” 
Lucie Rodey. A Charming Society Novel. By Henry Greville. 
Bonne-Marie. A Tale of Normandy and Paris. By Henry Greville. 

A Friend; or, “L’Ami.” By Henry Gr4ville, author of “Dosia.” 

Sonia. A Love Story. By Henry Greville, author of “ Dosia.” 
Gabrielle; or, The House of Maureze. By Henry Greville. 

Above are in paper cover, price 50 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.00 each. 
Dosia. A Russian Story. By Henry Griville, author of “Markof.” 

’The Trials of Raissa. By Henry Greville, author of “Dosia.” 

’The Princess Ogherof. A Love Story. By Henry Greville. 

Philom^ne’s Marriages. A Love Story. By Henry Greville. 

Pretty Little Countess Zina. By Henry Griville, author of “Do 5 ia.'* 
Marrying Off a Daughter. A Love Story. By Henry Griville. 

Above are in paper cover, price 75 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.25 each. 
Markof, the Russian Violinist. A Russian Story. By Henry Greville. 
One large volume, 12mo., cloth, price $1.50, or paper cover, 75 cents. 


1^ Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. lA) 


2 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS, 


MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS’ WORKS. 


Complete in twenty-three large duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth, gilt backp 
price $1.75 each ; or $40.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


Norston’s Rest, 

Bertha’s Engagement, 

$1 

75 

The Soldiers’ Orphans, 

$1 75 

1 

75 

A Noble Woman, 

1 

75 

Bellehood and Bondage,.... 

1 

75 

Silent Struggles, 

1 

75 

The Old Countess, 

1 

75 

The Rejected Wife, 

1 

75 

Lord Hope’s Choice, 

1 

75 

The Wife’s Secret, 

1 

75 

The Reigning Belle, 


75 

Mary Derwent, 

1 

75 

Palaces and Prisons, 

1 

75 

Fashion and Famine, 

1 

75 

Married in Haste, 

1 

75 

The Curse of Gold, .. 

1 

75 

Wives and Widows, 

1 

75 

Mabel’s Mistake, 

1 

75 

Ruby Gray’s Strategy, 


75 

The Old Homestead, 

1 

75 


Doubly False, 1 75 | The Heiress, 1 75 1 The Gold Brick,... 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


MISS ELIZA A. DUPUY’S WORKS. 

Complete in fourteen large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back, price 
$1.75 each ; or $24.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


A New Way to Win a Fortune $1 75 

The Discarded Wife, 1 75 

The Clandestine Marriage, 1 75 

The Hidden Sin, 1 75 

The Dethroned Heiress, 1 75 

The Gipsy’s Warning, 1 75 

All For Love, 1 75 


Why Did He Marry Her ? $1 75 

Who Shall be Victor ? 1 75 

The Mysterious Guest, 1 75 

Was He Guilty? 1 75 

The Cancelled Will, 1 75 

The Planter’s Daughter, 1 75 

Michael Rudolph, 1 75 


Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


LIST OF THE BEST COOK BOOKS PUBLISHED. 

Every housekeeper should possess at least one of the following Cook Books, as they 
would save the price of it in a week's cooking. 

Miss Leslie’s Cook Book, a Complete Manual to Domestic Cookery 


in all its Branches. Paper cover, $1.00, or bound in cloth, $1 50 

The Queen of the Kitchen ; or. The Southern Cook Book. Con- 
taining 1007 Old Southern Family Receipts for Cooking,. ..Cloth, 1 75 

Mrs. Hale’s New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Petersons’ New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Widdifield’s New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Mrs. Goodfellow’s Cookery as it Should Be, Cloth, 1 75 

The National Cook Book. By a Practical Housewife, Cloth, 1 75 

The Young Wife’s Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Miss Leslie’s New Receipts for Cooking, Cloth, .1 75 

Mrs. Hale’s Receipts for the Million, Cloth, 1 75 


The Family Save-All. By author of “ National Cook Book,” Cloth, 1 75 
Francatelli’s Modern Cook Book. With the most approved methods 
of French, English, German, and Italian Cookery. With Sixty- 
two Illustrations. One vol., COO pages, bound in morocco cloth, 5 00 


JlCr Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Priee, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 3 


MRS. C. A. WARFIELD’S WORKS. 

Complete in nine large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back, price 
$ 1.75 each ; or $ 15.75 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Cardinal’s Daughter, $1 75 1 Miriam’s Memoirs, $1 75 

Feme Fleming, 1 75iMonfort Hall, 1 75 

The Household of Bouverie,.... 1 75; Sea and Shore, 1 75 

A Double Wedding, 1 75 Hester Howard’s Temptation,... 1 75 

Lady Ernestine; or. The Absent Lord of Rocheforte, 1 75 

FREDRIKA BREMER’S DOMESTIC NOVELS. 

Complete in six large duodecimo volumes, hound in cloth, gilt back, price $ 1.75 each; 
or $ 10.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Father and Daughter, $1 75 j The Neighbors,...., $1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
Life in the Old World. In two volumes, cloth, price, 3 50 


Q. K. PHIL51NDER DOESTICKS’ WORKS. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $ 1.75 
each ; or $ 7.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Doesticks’ Letters, $l 75 I The Elephant Club, $l 75 

Plu-Ri-Bus-Tah, 1 75 1 Witches of New York, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


JAMES A. MAITLAND’S WORKS. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $ 1.75 
each ; or $ 12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

75 


The Watchman, $1 

The Wanderer, 1 75 

The Lawyer’s Story, 1 75 


Diary of an Old Doctor, $1 75 

Sartaroe, 1 75 

The Three Cousins 1 75 


The Old Patroon ; or the Great Van Broek Property, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE’S NOVELS. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $ 1.75 
each ; or $ 12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Sealed Packet, $1 75 i Dream Numbers, $1 75 

Garstang Grange, 1 75 1 Bcppo, the Conscript, 1 75 

Leonora Casaloni,... 1 75 | Gemma, 1 75 | Marietta, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

FRANK FORESTER’S SPORTING SCENES. 

Frank Forester’s Sporting Scenes and Charncters. By Henry William 
Herbert. A New, Revised, and Enlargdl Edition, with a Life of the 
Author, a New Introductory diopter, Frank Forester’s Portrait and 
Autograph, with a full length picture of him in his shooting costume, 
and seventeen other illustrations, from original designs by Darley and 
Frank Forester. Two vols., morocco cloth, bevelled boards, $4.00. 


1^* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Fricet 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


4 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WILKIE COLLINS’ BEST WORKS. 

Basil; or, The Crossed Path..$l 50 | The Dea<l Secret. 12ino $1 50 

Above are each in one large duodecimo volume, 'bound in cloth. 

The Dead Secret, 8vo 75 The Queen’s Revenge, 75 


Basil; or, the Crossed Path, 75 

Hide and Seek, 75 

After Dark, 75 


Miss or Mrs ? 50 

Mad Monkton, 50 

Sights a-Foot, 50 


The Stolen Ma.sk, 25 | The Yellow Mask,... 25 | Sister Rose,,.. 25 

The above books are each issued in paper cover, in octavo form. 

EMERSON BENNETT’S INDIAN STORIES. 

Complete in seven largo duodecimo volumes, buund in cloth, gilt back, price $1.78 
each ; or $12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


The Border Rover, $1 75 

Clara Moreland, 1 75 

The Orphan’s Trials, I 75 


Bride of the Wilderness, $1 75 

Ellen Norbury, I 75 

Kate Clarendon, 1 75 


Viola; or Adventures ii» the Far South-West, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

The Heiress of Bellefonte, 75 | The Pioneer’s Daughter, 75 


GREEN’S WORKS ON GAMBLING. 

Complete in four large, duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, ..price $1.75 
each ; or $7 .00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Gambling Exposed, $1 75 i The Reformed Gambler, $1 75 

The Gambler’s Life, 1 75 | Secret Baud of Brothers, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

DOW’S PATENT SERMONS. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 
each ; or $0.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


Dow’s Patent Sermon.«, 1st 

Series, cloth, .$! 50 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 2d 
Series, cloth 1 50 


Dow’s Patent Sermons, 3d 

Series, cloth, $1 50 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 4th 
Series, cloth .*. 1 50 


Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.00 each. 


GEORGE SAND’S GREATEST WORKS. 

Consuelo, 12rao., cloth, $1 50 | Jealousy, 12mo., cloth, $1 50 

Countess of Rudolstadt, 1 50 | Indiana, 12mo., cloth, 1 50 

Above are each published in 12mo., cloth, gilt side and back. 
Fanchon, the Cricket, paper cover, 50 cents, or fine edition, in cloth, 1 50 
First and True Love. With 11 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, 1 00 

Consuelo. Paper cover, 75 I The Corsair 50 

Simon. A Love Story, 50 1 The Last Aldini, * 50 

The Countess of Rudolstadt. The Sequel to Consuelo. Paper cover, 75 


MISS BRADD 


Aurora Floyd, 75 

Aurora Floyd, cloth 1 00 


ON’S WORKS. 

The Lawyer’s Secret,... 
For Better, For Worse,, 


25 

75 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Frieoi 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


16 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS, 


ALEXANDER DUMAS’ WONDERFUL WORKS. 


Count of Monte-Cristo,.... 

$1 00 1 

Memoirs of a Physician; 

or. 

Edmond D -.ntes, 


75 

Joseph Bals.-imo, 

Queen’s Necklace, 

$1 

The Three Guardsmen, 


75 

1 

Twenty Years After, 


75 ; 

Six Years Later, 

Countess of Charny, 

1 

Bragelonne, 


75 i 

1 

The Iron Mask, 


00 ; 

Andree de Tavernev, 

. ... 1 

Louise La Valliere, 


00 

The Chevalier, 

1 

Diana of Meridor 

1 

00 

1 Forty-five Gu:irdsmen, 

1 

Adventures of !i. Marquis,. 

1 

00 

1 The Iron Hand 

1 

Love and Liberty, (1792- 

’93).. 1 

50 

; The Conscript, 

1 


Ciltniile; or, The Fate of a Coquette, (La Dame Aux Cainelias.) 1 

Countess of Montc*Cristo, a companion to Count of Monte-Cristo,... 1 
The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 


The Mohicans of Paris, 

The Horrors of Paris 

The Fallen Angel, 

Felina de Chaiubure 

Sketches in France, 

Isabel of Bavaria, 

The Man with Five Wives, 

Annette} or, Lady of Pearls,... 


75 
75 
75 
75 
75 I 
75 I 
75 ! 
75 1 


Twin Lieutenant.^, 

George ; or. Isle of France,, 

Madame de Chamblay, 

The Black Tulip, 

The Corsican Brothers, 

The Count of Moret, 

The Marriage Verdict, 

Buried Alive, 


00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

50 

50 

00 


50 

50 

50 

60 

50 

50 

50 

25 


GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS’ HISTORICAL NOVELS. 


Mysteries Court of London, ....$1 00 

Rose Faster, 1 50 

Caroline of Brunswick, 1 00 

Venetia Trelawney, 1 00 

Lord Saxondale, 1 00 

Count Christoval, 1 00 

Rosa Lambert. 1 00 

Wall-ace, the Hero of Scotland, 1 00 

The Mysteries of the Court of Naples, full of Illustrations, 

Robert Bruce, the Hero-King of Scotland, full of Illustrations 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 


Mary Price, 

Eustace Quentin....... 

Joseph Wilmot, 

Banker’s Daughter,... 

Kenneth, 

The R^-e-House Plot,. 

The Necromancer, 

The Gypsy Chief,. 


00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 


Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots,... 75 

The Opera Dancer, 75 

Child of Waterloo, 75 

Isabella A^’incent, 75 

Vivian Bertram, 75 

Countess of Lascellcs, 75 

Duke of Marchmont, 75 

Massacre of Glencoe, 75 

Loves of the Harem, 75 

The Soldier’s Wife, 75 

May Middleton, 75 


Ellen Percy 75 

Agnes Evelyn, 75 

Pickwick Abroad, 75 

Parricide, 75 

Discarded Queen, 75 

The Countess and the Page, 75 

Life in Paris, 60 

Edgar Montrose...... 50 

The Ruined Gamester, 50 

Clifl'o!-d and the Actress, 50 

Ciprina; or, the Secrets, 60 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prico, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


MAJOE JOHES’S COUETSHIP 

AND MAJOR JONES’S OTHER BOOKS, JUST PUBLISHED BY 

T. B. PETERSON &i BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA, 

And for sale by all Booksellers and at all News Stands. 

^ 

MAJOR JOi^ES'S COERTSifIR. 

Major Jo9JOS*s Oo^srtsliii>. Anfhor's Nen\ Enhirged. and lie'ijoriitfu 
Edition, Detailed in a Series of Letters, with llumoruus Scenes, Incidents, and 
Adventures during his Courtship, By Major Joseph Jones, of i*ineville, Georgia, 
author of ‘‘ Haney Cottein’s Courtship,” Major Jones's Tmvels,” “ Major Jones’s 
Georgia Scenes,” etc. With Twenty-One Full Page Illustrations, on Tinted Plate 
Paper, by Dailey and Cary. One volume, square 12imo., uniform with Major 
Jones’s Travels,” price 75 cents in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.00. 

MAJOR JONES’S TRAVEES. 

Major Jones’s Travels. Comprising Humorous Scenes, Incidents, and 
Adventures while on liis tour from Georgia to Canada, with his experiences in each 
town he passed through. By Major Joseph Jones, of Pineville, Georgia, author 
of “ Major Jones's Courtship,” “ Ilancy Cottem’s Courtship,” “Major Jones’s 
Georgia Scenes,” etc, Wiih Eight Full Page Illustrations on Tinted Plate 
Paper, by Darle 3 \ One volume, square 12mo., uniform with “Major Jones’s 
Courtship,'* price 75 cents in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.00, 

Major Jones’s Courtship and Major Jones’s Travels. 

These two books are also issued in one volume, in ’morocco cloth, price $1.75, 

MAJOR JONES’S GEORGIA SCENES. 

Major Jones’s Georg'ia Scenes. Comprising his celebrated Sketches 
of Scenes in Georgia, with their Incidents and Characters. By Major Joseph 
Jones, of Pineville, Georgia, author of “Major Jones’s Courtship,” “Kancy 
Cottem’s Courtsliip,” “Major Jones’s Travels,” etc. With Twelve Full Pago 
Illustrations, on Tinted Plate Paper, by Daiiey. One volume, square 12rao., 
uniform with “ Major Jones’s Courtship,” paper, 75 cents, or in cloth, piice $1.00, 

RANCY COTTEM’S COERTSHIP. 

Raney Cnttem’s tlonrtship. Author^s Ediiion, Detailed with Other 
Humorous Sketches and Adventures. By Major Joseph Jones, of Pineville, Geor- 
gia, author of “ Major Jones’s Courtship,” “ Major Jones’s Travels,” “ Major Jones’s 
Georgia Scenes,” etc. With Eight Full Page Illustrations, on Tinted Plate Paper, 
by Cary. One volume, square 12mo., uniform with “Major Jones’s Courtship,” 
price 50 cents in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.00. 

SIMON SUGGS’ ADYENTERES. 

Simon Ad vcntorcs. Late of “The Tallapoosa Volunteers,** 

together with “Taking the Census,” and other Alabama Sketches, by Johnson J, 
Hooper, author of “ Widow Rugby’s Husband.” With a Portrait of Captain Simon 
Suggs, taken fmm life, aud Ten Full Page Illustrations, on Tinted Plate Paper, by 
Darley. One volume, square ILmo., uniform with “Major Jones’s Courtship,’* 
price 75 cents in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1 00. 

THE EOEISIANA SWAMP ROCTOR. 

TSao Swaanp Roclor. Together with “Cupping an 

Irishman,” “ How to Cure Fits,’' “ Stealing a Baby,” “A Rattlesnake on a Steam- 
boat,” “The Curious Widow,” “Love in a Garden,” and other Southern Sketches. 
By Madison Tensas, M.D., of Louisiana, author of “Cupping on the Sternum,” 
etc. With Six Full Page Illustrations, on Tinted Plate Paper, by Darley. One 
v ilume, square 12mo., uniform with “Major Jones’s Courtship),” price 75 cents 
in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.00. 


Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and at all News 
Stands^ or copies of any one or all of them^ will be sent to any one, to 
any places at once, post-paid, on remitt ing the price to the publishers^ 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 

T7Vit/3sa.t:©c3.. Canvassers to engage in selling tbe above works, 



J^rice One Dollar Each, hi Cloth, Dlaclc and Gold, 


Li-WOMAN’S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEJSr. By Miss Mulock. Every Lady wants it 
TWO WAYS TO MATRIMONY; or. Is It Love, or. False Pride? 
the story of “ELIZABETH.” By Miss Thackeray, d.aiighter of W. M. Thackeray. 
FLIRTATIONS IN FASHIONABLE LIFE. By Catharine Sinclair. 
the matchmaker, a Society Novel. By Beatrice Reynolds.' Full of freshness and truth. 
ROSE DOUGLAS, The Bonnie Scotch Lass. A Compunion to “ Family Pride.” 

THE EARL’S SECRET. A Ch.arming and Sentimental Love Story. By Miss Pardoe. 
FAMILY SECRETS. A Companion to “Family Pride and a very fas.cinating work. 

THE MACDERMOTS OP BALLYCLORAN. An Exciting Novel by Anthony Trollope 
THE FAMILY SAVE-ALL. With Economical Receiids for Breakfast, Dinner and Tea. 
SELF-SACRIFICE. A Charming and Exciting Work. By author of “ Margaret Maitland.” 
THE PRIDE OP LIFE. A Love Story. By Lady Jane Scott. 

THE RIVAL BELLES; or. Life in "Washington. By author “Wild Western Scenes." 
THE CLYPPARDS OP CLYFFE. By James Payn, author of “ Lost Sir Massingberd.” 
THE ORPHAN’S TRIALS ; or. Alone a Great City. By Emerson Bennett. 
THE HEIRESS OP SW"EETWATER. Love Story, abounding with exciting scenes. 
THE REFUGEE. A delightful book, full of food for laughter, and sterling information. 
LOST SIR MASSINGBERD. A L^we Story. By author of “ The Clyffards of Clyife.” 
CORA BELMONT; or, THE SINCERE LOVER. A True Story of the Heart. 
THE LOVER’S TRIALS ; or. The Days Before the Revolution. By Mrs. Denie-n. 
MY SON’S WIPE. A strong, bright, interesting and charming Novel. By author of “ Caste.’ 
\ AUNT PATTY’S SCRAP BAG. By Sirs. Caroline Lee Ilentz, .author of “Linda,” “Rena.’ 
SARATOGA! AND THE FAMOUS SPRINGS. An In di.an Tale of Frontier Life. 
COUNTRY QUARTERS. A Charming Love Story. By the Countess of Blcssington. 
SELF-LOVE. A Book for Young Ladies, witli their prospects in Single and Married Life contrasted 
THE DEVOTED BRIDE ; or, FAITH AND FIDELITY. A Love Story. 

THE HEIRESS IN THE FAMILY. By author of “ Marrying for Money.” 

THE LIFE OP EDW^IN FORREST. By Colley Cibber. With Reminiscences. 

THE MAN OP THE WORLD. This is full of style, elegance of diction, and force of thought 
OUT OP THE DEPTHS. A Woman's Story and a AVomau’s Book, the Story of a Woman’s Lifo 
THE QUEEN’S FAVORITE; or. The Price of a Crown. A Rom.ance of Don Juan 
SIX NIGHTS WITH THE WASHINGTONIANS. By T. S. Arthur. Illustrated. 
THE RECTOR’S WIPE; or, THE VALLEY OP A HUNDRED FIRES. 
THE COQUETTE; or, LIFE AND LETTERS OP ELIZA WHARTON. 
WOMAN’S WRONG. A Book for Women. By Mrs. Eiloart. A Novel of great power. 
HAREM LIFE IN EGYPT AND CONSTANTINOPLE. By Emmeline Lott. 
THE OLD PATROON; or, THE GREAT VAN BROEK PROPERTY. 
NANA. By Emile Zola. GAMBLING EXPOSED. By J. H. Green 

L’ASSOMMOIR. By Emile Zola. WOODBURN GRANGE. By AV.IIowitt 

DREAM NUMBERS. By T. A. Trollope. THE CAVALIER. By G. P. R. James. 
LOVE AND DUTY. By Mrs. Ilubback. ONE FOR ANOTHER. By II. Morford. 
A LONELY LIFE. SHOULDER-STRAPS. By H. Morford. 

THE BEAUTIFUL WIDOW. TREASON AT HOME. PANOLA 

The jhme B^oJes arc all issued in "Petersons^ Dollar Series,’' ard they loill he found for sal 
by all Boohse.Uf’rs, News Agents, and on all Railroad trains, at One Dollar each, or copies of any on 
#r more, will be sent to any place, at once, post-paid, on remitting the price of the ones tvanted in a letter^ tt 

T. B. PjETEBSOW & BBOTHEBS, Philadelphia. 



TMis 

“A. Z.” A STORY OF MODERN LIFE. 

BY BARONESS TAUXPHffitJS. 

AUTHOR OF “CYRILLA,” “QUITS,” “AT ODDS,” ETC. 


*^Tke Initials'^' has long held a prominent place among the best and most famous 
newels in the English language, and deservedly so, for rarely has such an artistic and 
absorbing book clahned the attention of the reading public. It was written by the Bar^ 
oness Tautpheeus, the wife of a German noblefnan. The action takes place in Ger- 
many. A letter signed with the initials **A. Z.” is received by Alfred Hamilton, an 
Englishman, at the hotel in which he is stopping in Munich, inviting him to visit the 
writer at the monastery of Seon. Hamilton can form no conjecture as to the identity 
of his correspondent, but determines to go to the monastery and solve the mystery. His 
visit to Seon brings him in contact with two sisters, Hildegarde and Crescenz Rosenberg, 
and paves the way to the ei'ents of the tale. Hildegarde is a lovely, noble-hearted girl, 
and, of course, Hamilton ultimately falls in love with her. He has a rival in Count 
Raimund, Hildegarde' s cousin, who gives him and the lady of his choice considerable 
(rouble, figuring towards the close of the book in a tragic episode of the most stirring 
iescription, Crescenz is disposed to be a flirt, but finds her fate in the shape of old 
Major Stultz, her pi'incipaT objection to marrying him being that he has no Von to his 
naine. Hildegarde, Crescenz, Hamilton and all the rest of the characters are drawn 
in vivid colors, and each personage has a marked individuality. The plot is skilfully 
woven and possesses wonderful interest, while quite a number of the incidents are 
intensely dramatic and thrilling. The dialogue is crisp and snappy, the broken Eng- 
lish of some of the Germans introduced being exceedingly natural and jelicitous. Ger- 
man scenery is described in the most picturesque and faithful fashion, thus adding 
another charm to the eminently charming story. Noxv and then a vein of humor crops 
out, but “ The Initials ” deals rather with love and excitement than with comicality. 
There is not a dull passage from first to last, but, at the same time, only legitbnate 
means are employed to enchain the reader's attention, the gifted authoress never stoop- 
ing to clap-trap or the ultra-sensational. Everything is natural even' to the smallest 
details, and not the least straining after effect is anywhere visible. All who relish an 
excellent novel, pleasantly combining instruction with amusement, should read I he 
Initials^' and in its present attractive shape the great romance may reasonably be 
expected to have gi'eat popularity. One thing, hoxvever, is certain, and that is, that all 
those who have not read “ The Initials ” have a rich literary treat before them. 


Paper Cover, 75 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.25. 


'>l^***The Initials" will be found for sale by all Booksellers and at all News 
Stands, and on all Railroad Trains, or copies of it will be sent to any one, to any 
flace, at once, per mail, post-paid, on remitting the price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETEIISON & BKOTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


EMILE ZOLA’S NEW BOOKS 


TJie Greatest Novels Ever Printed. 

iBM 

Read wbat “Mrs. bncy H. Hooper” says of “Emile Zola’s Works,” in 
the “Philadelphia EveEiiu§^ Telejfraph.” 

The immense success of Zola forms a curious feature in the literary history of this age. For he is 
not only honored by the critics, who recognize his strength, his pitiless audacity, his positive genius, 
•Dut he is the idol of all classes on account of the truthfulness of his delineations. Now I do not join 
with the world at large in considering Zola immoral. He is no more immoral than a physician lec- 
turing about certain phases of horror in the condition of a patient afflicted with mortal disease. 
Nobody will arise from the perusal of Zola’s books possessed with a desire to imitate the actions or to 
follow the example of his heroes and heroines. His works are not demoralizing. He never makes 
vice lovely, never paints it in alluring tints, never strews its pathway with flowers. He is simply, lit- 
erally, and pitilessly true to life in his powerful delineations. He is a French Thackeray. The talent 
of the two men — the author of Inanity Fuir and the author of the Asso?/:mozr — is almost identical, 
modified in each by the conditions of their nationality and of the society for which they wrote. Placfe 
Thackeray in Paris, the son of Parisian parents, and Vanity Fair will become exasperated into La 
Cur 'e. Transfer Zola to London, and transform him into an Englishman, and he will write The Story 
of Pendennis instead of The History of the Rougon-Macquarts. Nor are Zola’s books the epheme- 
ral productions of an hoar. They are immortal because they are true. Two hundred years from now, 
historians .seeking to tell the tale of the France of the Second Empire and the Third Republic, will 
turn to Zola as to a gallery of photographs taken from the life. Zola is in literature what Plolbein was 
in art. His immense hold over the sympatities of the lower ordens was never more fully shown than 
since the production of the melodrama drawn from his novel of Nana, at the Ambigii. I went on 
Saturday night fast, and the throng was extraordinary. And here let it be stated, once for all, that 
Nana is not an indecent play. It is superbly put upon the stage, is admirably played, and is a very 
curious and accurate study of an important phase of Parisian life. "Nana” is simply a realistic 
"Camille.” She is a frivolous, good-hearted, conscienceless creature, and as for remorse, or aspirations 
after a purer or nobler life, such ideas never cross her brain. She holds in her vacant soul one nobler 
instinct, and that is her love for her child. In this respect Zola has been true to life as in other details. 

LIST OF EMILE ZOLA’S GREAT WORKS. 

Nann,! The Sequel to " L'Assommoir.” Nana! ^ Eznile Zola. With a Picture oj 
*‘Nana” on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or One Dollar in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Nana's Mother; or. li'Assominoir, By Emile Zola, author of "Nana.” With a 
Picture of" Gervaise,” Nana’s mother, on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper, or One Dollar in Cloth. 

Tll^rfeSO Raqniil. By Emile Zola, author o{‘'Nana.” With a Portrait of " Emile Zola” 
on the cover. Price 73 cents in paper cover, or One Dollar in Cloth, Black and Geld. 

Ea Ciir<5e. By Emile Zola, author of "Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or One Dollar 
in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

Mag^dalen Ferat. By Emile Zola, author of "Nana.” With a Picture of ^‘Magdalen 
Ferat” on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

<Torin<la; or, Zola’s Court of Naj>oleon HI. By Emile Zola, ■a\xx\ior oi " Nana.” 
With a Picture of"Clorinda ” on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth. 

Albine; or. The Abbe's Temptation. (Ea Fante <le E’Abbe Moiiret.j By 
Emile Zola. With a Picture of "Albine ” on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in Cloth. 

Sleli^ne: a Eo\’e Episode; or, Une Page I>’Amo«r. By Emile Zola, author of 
"Nana.” With a Picture of "Helene ” on the cover. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or ;^i.25 in Cloth. 

The Rongoii-Macquart Family; or, Miette. (Ea Fortune des Rongon.) 

^y Emile Zola, author of "Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth. 

The Conquest of Piassans; or, Ea Conquete de Plassans. By Emile Zola, 
author oi" Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or ^^1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

The Markets of Paris; or, Ee Ventre de Paris. By Emile Zola, s.ui\i9r oi 
"Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in Cloth, Black and Gold. 

EFS’’ Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents everywhere , and on all RaiL 
Road Trains, or copies of any one book, or all of them, will be sent to any one, to any place, at once, 
mail, post-paid, on remitting the price, of the ones wanted in a letter to the Publishers, 

T. B. PBTEKSOX & BKOTHEKS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


LIBBARY EDITION, IN MOROCCO CLOTH. 


12 Volumes, at Each.; or 321-00 a Set. 

T. B. PETEBSON & BROTHERS, No. 306 aiestnut Street, Phila^’ 
delphia, have just puhlished an entire new, complete, and uniform edition of 
all the celebrated Novels written by the popular American Novelist, Mrs. Car- 
oline Lee llentz, in twelve large duodecimo volumes. They are printed on the 
finest paper, and bound in the 7nost beautiful style, in Green Morocco cloth, 
with a new, full gilt back, and sold at the low ptrice of $1.75 each, or $21.00 
for a full and complete set. Every Family and every Library in this country, 
should have in it a complete set of this new and beautiful edition of the works 
of Mrs. Caroline Lee llentz. The following is a complete list of 

MES. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ’S WORKS. 

LINDA; or, THE YOUNG PiLOT OF THE BELLE CREOLE. 

VJWh a Complete Biography of Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 
ROBERT GRAHAiVI. A Sequel to “Linda.” 

REMA; or, THE SNOW BIRD. A Tale of Real Life. 

MARCUS WARLAND; or, The Long Moss Spring. 

ERNEST LINWOOD ; or, The Inner Life of the Author. 

EOLINE; or, MAGNOLIA VALE; or, The Heiress of Glenmore. 

THE PLANTER’S NORTHERN BRIDE; or, Mrs. Hentz’s Childhood. 
HELEN AND ARTHUR; or, Miss Thusa’s Spinning-Wheel. 
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE; or. The Joys of American Life. 
LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE; and other Stories of the Heart. 

THE LOST DAUGHTER ; and other Stories of the Heart. 

THE BANISHED SON; and other Stories of the Heart. 

Books are for sale by all Booksellers at $1.75 each, or $21.06/o> 
a complete set of the twelve volumes. Copies of either one of the above books, or 
a complete set of them, will be sent at once to any one, to any place, postaga 
pre-paid, or free of freight, on remitting their price in a letter to the Publishers 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Pliiladelpliia, Pa. 



23 Volumes, at $1.75 each; or $40.00 a Set. 


T. B. PETERSON <£* BROTHERS, No. 306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa,, 
have just published an entire neiv, eomplete, and uniform edition of all the tvorks xerit- 
ten by Ulrs. Ann S. Stephens, the popular American Authoress. This edition is in 
duodecimo form, is printed on the finest paper, is complete in twenty-three volumes, and 
each volume is bound in xnorocco cloth, xvitli a full gilt back, and is sold at the low prke 
of $1.7o each, or $40.00 for a full and complete set. Every Family and every Library 
in this country, should have in it a complete set of this xiexv and beautiful edition of 
the xoorks of Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. The following are the names of the volumes: 

NORSTON’S REST. THE REiGNING BELLE. 

BERTHA’S ENGAGEMENT. MARRIED IN HASTE. 

BELLEHOOD AND BONDAGE; or, Bought with a Price. 

LORD HOPE’S CHOICE; or, More Secrets Than One. 
THE OLD COUNTESS. Sequel to “Lord Hope’s Choice.” 

RUBY GRAY’S STRATEGY ; or, Married by Mistake. 

PALACES AND PRISONS; or, The Prisoner of the Bastile. 

A NOBLE WOMAN ; or, A Gulf Between Them. 

THE CURSE OF GOLD; or. The Bound Girl and The Wife’s Trials. 
MABEL’S MISTAKE; or. The Lost Jewels. 

THE OLD HOMESTEAD; or, The Pet from the Poor House. 

. THE REJECTED WIFE; or, The Ruling Passion. 

THE WIFE’S SECRET; or, Gillian. 

THE HEIRESS; or. The Gipsy’s Legacy. 

SILENT STRUGGLES; or, Barbara Stafford. 

WIVES AND WIDOWS; or. The Broken Life. 

DOUBLY FALSE; or, Alike and Not Alike. 

THE GOLD BRICK. THE SOLDIER’S ORPHANS. 

MARY DERWENT. FASHION AND FAMINE. 

Above books are for sale by all Booksellers at $1.75 each, or $40.00 for a com- 
plete set of the twenty-three volumes. Copies of either one or more of the above books, 
or a coxnplete set of them, xoill be sent at once to any one, to any place, jxostage 
prepaid, or free of freight, on remitting their price in a letter to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Piiiladclpiiia, Pa. 


Mrs* D* E. So-atli worth’s New Book, 


M.ZSAE 


GFi , kosb: ■ 

• BY MRS. E. D. E. K SOUTH WORTH. 

One Volume, Square l2mo. Paper Cover. Price Seventy-five Cents. 


“ The Bridal Eve ; or, Roae Elmer,” ane of Mrs. Emma D. E N. Souik'ivortJi s best and most 
thrilling love stories, is just published by T. B. Peterson (Sr’ Brothers , Philadelphia, in their square 
i2mo. form that has become so popular among- all novel readers. Mrs. Southivorth confessedly ozier- 
shadoivs every other American fiction ivriter , and thei-e has long been a demand for her novels at a 
price within the reach of all. This demand is now met by the issuing of “ The Bridal E\ E'’yt;r 
the small sum of sez'enty five cents a cc'py. Of course, this i eally excellent and absorbing romance 
ivill meet with an extended sale in its present shape, and it is needless to say that all voko read it 
will find in it ample fooa for both wonder and admiration. The story has great strength and in- 
genuity, zvhite every one of the many stirring incidents with which it is crozvded has a charm and 
an excitement peculiarly its own. The scene is laid chiefly in London. There are tzvo heroines, both 
noble specimens of womanhood , whose trials and adventures cannot fail to rwet attention and excite 
sympathy. A nobleman is murdered, and an innocent man is nearly brought to the gall ozvs for the 
crime. Faithful loz<ers suffer for the misdeeds of faithless ones . while plotters do their best to sac- 
rifice others for their oivn profit. “ The Bridal Eve ” is a marvel of inventive skill. 


COMPLETE LIST OF MBS. SOUTHWORTH’S WORKS. 


Mrs. SoHlhwo; Ill's IVofes are complete in forty-thi ee volumes, bound in morocco clothe 
gill back, library style, price ^1.75 each, or $75.25 a set, each set in a neat box. 


Ishmael ; or, In the Depths. Being “ Self-Made.” 

Self- Raised ; or, From the Deptlas. Sequel to “ Ishmael.” 
The Fortune Seeker. The Fatal Marriase. 


The Lost Heiress. 

Tried for Her Life. 

Cruel as the Grave. 

The Maiden Widow. 

The Family Doom. 

The Bride s Fate. 

The Changed Brides. 

Fair Play. 

How He Won Her. 

Victor’s Triumph. 

A Beautiful Fiend. 

The Spectre Lover. 

The Prince of Darkness, 

The Christmas Guest. 
Fallen Pride. 

The Widow s Son. 

The Bride of Llewellyn. 

The Fatal Secret. 

The Bridal Eve. 

India ; Pearl of Pearl Biver. 


The Deserted Wife, 

Love’s Labor Won. 

A Hobie Lord. 

The Lost Heir of Linlithgow. 
The Artist’s Love. 

The Gipsy’s Prophecy. 

The Three Beauties. 

Vivia; or, the Secret of Power, 
The Two Sisters. 

The Missing Bride. 

The Wife’s Victory. 

The Mother-in-Law. 

The Haunted Homestead. 

The Lady of the Isle. 

Allworth Abbey. 

Ketribution. 

The Curse of Clifton. 

The Discarded Daughter. 

The Mystery of Dark Hollow. 
The Phantom Wedding. 


Copies of any one work, or more, or a complete set of “Afrs. Southworthls 
HPrks,’' 7 vill be sent to any one, to any address, at once, free of freight or postage, on 
emitting $1.75 fo^ each one wanted, to T. B. Peterpon ^ Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 
Address all orders and remittances to the Publishers, 

T. B. PBTEBSOX & BKOTHEliS, Piiiladelplim, Pa. 


BERTHA’S BABY. 



GUSTAVE 



Bertha's Baby ” is a book that xvill make a place for itself at once in every hearty 
and a very warm place, too, for it is simply delicious. Gustave Droz, its author, is 
another John Habberton, though his work is in many respects vastly superior to 
^'Helen's Babies." It has, however, the same distinguishing vein of naturahiess and 
the sa7ne vividness in its pictures of childhood that made its famous predecessor so 
immensely popular, though ^'■Bertha's Baby " is in every pohit of view eminently orig- 
inal. Droz's langicage in talking of children is simply exquisite, his sentiments are 
pure as the drifted snotu, and his penvers of description infinitely varied and picturesque. 
He shows intense and discriminating love for all babyish prattlers, a love which all 
young mothers especially will appreciate to the full ; in fact, a more fascinating and 
delightful book for young mothers than Bertha's Baby" cannot be found in the lite- 
rature of the world. '•'■Baby" is a real boy — there is nothing indecisive about him. 
He romps and plays xvith all his might, disembowels his toy horses, and wants to be a 
big vian, like papa, that he may have a moustache, carry a cane, say by thunder and 
not be afraid at night. At one time "Baby" gets sick and lies at the point of death. 
Here Droz becomes exceedingly touching, and the exquisite eloquence of the grief 
expressed would melt a heart of stone. But "Baby" does not die. He gets well again 
and becomes as hearty as a buck, passing through a thousartd adventures peculiar to 
babyhood, and, at last, growing exceedingly tenacious of his manly dignity, his chief 
ambition being to protect his rno,(Iier during her promenades in the street, though he is 
tremendously afraid of the big dog. "Baby" has an experlerrce in the country during 
an autumn tempest. This experience is descr ibed in such glowing colors and with such 
intensity of expt'ession, that the entire chapter resembles a charming poem in prose. 
There is much that is serious and even sentimental in "Bertha' s Baby," but pervading 
the entir'e book is an undercurrent of the most refined and enjoyable humor, together 
with keen wit, sound philosophy, and now and then a spice of sarcasm. The pictures 
of " Bertha" and "Oscar," "Baby's" parents, are the perfection of natural character- 
sketching, and will take a firm hold on the affections of all young married couples. 
The children, too, will like "Bertha's Baby," and, in fact, everybody will be rnor'e than 
pleased with it. Its entire purity and healthful teachings render it particularly suita- 
ble for adffiission into all family circles. 


Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.00. 


" Ber-tha' s Baby" will be found for sale by all Booksellers and Neivs Agents, 
and on all Railroad Trains, or copies of it will be sent to any one, to any place, at 
once, per mail, post-paid, on remitting the price to the publishers. 


T. B. PETERSOi5f & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


PETEKSONS’ NEW BOOKS. 


HELEN’S BABIES. By John Ilahherlon. HELEN’S BABIES. With Illustrated 
Cover and Portraits of Budge and Toddie. Price 50 cents in paper, cloth, $1.00. 

BEBTHA’S BABY. Equal to Helen's Babies." BERTHA’S BABY. With an Ulus- 
trated Cover and Portrait of “ Bertha’s Baby.” Paper, 50 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

THE INITIALS. A. Z. By the Baroness Tautphoeus. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 

SABINE’S FALSEHOOD. A Charming Love Story. By the Princess Olga. Trans- 
lated by Mary Heal Sherwood. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth. 

NANA. By Emile Zola. NANA. An Entire New Edition. NANA. With an Illus- 
trated Cover and Portraits of Nana and others. Paper, 75 cents, or $1.00 in cloth. 

NANA’S DAUGHTER. Sequel to Emile Zola’s novel of “NANA.” With an Illus- 
trated Cover and Portraits. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth. 

NANA’S MOTHER; or, L’ASSOMMOIR. By Emile Zola. With Illustrated Cover 
and Portraits of Nana’s Mother and others. Paper cover, 75 cents, or .$1.00 in cloth. 

A PRINCE OF BREFFNY. By Thomas P. May, author of “ The Earl of Mayfield.” 
One volume, duodecimo, library style, cloth, black and gold. Price $1.50. 

THE BRIDAL EVE. By 3Irs. Southivorth. Illustrated. Paper cover, price lb cents. 

MONSIEUR, MADAME AND THE BABY. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

PAUL HART; or, THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 

HISTORY OF A PARISIENNE. By Octave Feuillet. Paper, 50 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

THE EXILES. A Russian Story. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth. 

MILDRED’S CADET; or, HEARTS & BELL-BUTTONS. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

MY HERO. By 3Irs. Forrester. Paper cover, 75 cents, or $1.00 in cloth. 

CAMILLE; or, THE FATE OF A COQUETTE. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 

DOSIA. By Henry Greville. Paper cover, 75 cents, or $1.25 in cloth. 

VIDOCQ! THE FRENCH DETECTIVE. Illustrated. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

THE EARL OF MAYFIELD. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00, library style, $1.50. 

MAJOR JONES’S COURTSHIP. Author’s New and Enlarged Edition. With 21 full 
page illustrations by Barley and Cary. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

MADAME BOVARY. By Gustave Flaubert. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

MAJOR JONES’S TRAVELS. With eight full page illustrations by Parley. By 
author of '‘3Iajor Jones’s Courtship.” Paper cover, 75 cents; cloth, $1.00. 

THE V/OMAN IN BLACK. A Society Novel. Paper cover, 75 cents, or $1.00 in cloth. 

MAJOR JONES’S GEORGIA SCENES. With 12 full page illustrations by Parley, 
By author of Major Jones’s Courtshi]).” Paper cover, 75 cents; cloth, $1.00. 

LINDA. By Caroline Lee Hentz. Paper cover, 75 cents, or $1.25 in cloth. 

RANCY COTTEM’S COURTSHIP. With 8 full page illustrations. By author of 
Major Jones’s Courtship.” Paper cover, 50 cents; or in cloth, $1.00. 

SIMON SUGGS’ ADVENTURES. Illustrated by Parley. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

LOUISIANA SWAMP DOCTOR. Illustrated by Parley. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

THE COUNT DS CAMORS. By Octave Feuillet. Paper, 75 cents, or $1.25 in cloth. 

KATHLEEN! THEO! MISS CRESPIGNY ! PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON! and 
A QUIET LIFE ! By 3Irs. Burnett. Paper, 50 cents each, cloth, $1.00 each. 

The above works are for sale by all Booksellers and at all News Stands everywhere, 

and on all Rail-Road Trains, or copies of any one, or all of them, will be sent to any one, 

to any place, per mail, post-paid, on remitting the price of the ones wanted to the Publishers, 

T. B. rETBBSOJSr BBOTHEBS, rhiladelt)hia, Ba. 


“ It will save many dollars.” — Lynn {Mass.) Ueporterj’^^ 

GET UP CLUBS FOR 18821 CHEAPEST AND BEST! I 


PETERSON’S' MiaiZINE 


jg£ 2 |a»These different premi- 
ums will be given for dif- 
ferent Clubs (see below) or all 
tliree will be given for cer- 
tain large Clubs (see below). 


I. “HUSH! DON’T WAKE THEM.’’ 

II. PHOTOGRAPH ALBUM, GILT. 

in. EXTRA COPY OF MAGAZINE, 1882 . 


A Supplement vrill be given in every number for 18S2, containing a full-size pattern ferr a 
lady's or child's dress. Every subscriber will receive, during the year, twelve of these patterns, worth 
more, alone, according to the newspapers, than the entire subscriptio7i jJrice.’^l^ 


“Peterson’s Magazine” contains, every j'car, ICOO pages, 14 steel plates, 12 colored Berlin 
patterns, 12 niaminoth colored fashion plates, 24 pages of music, and about 900 wood cuts. Its princi- 
pal embellishments are — what no other magazine gives — 

Its immense circulation enables its proprietor to spend more on embellishments, stories, etc. 
than any other. It gives more for the money, and combines more merits, than any in the world. It 
is famous for its 

SPLENDgDLY ILLUSTRATED ARTICLES, 

BEST ORICSrilAL TALES AND NOVELETS, 
COLORED WORK-TABLE PATTERNS, acc. 

All the most •ponnlar writers are employed to write originally for ^'Petersim." In 1882 FIVE 
ORIGINAL rOl'YRlGHT NOVELETS will bo given, by Ann S. Stephens, by Frank Lee Benedict, by 
Jane G. Austin, by the author of “Josiali Allen’s Wife,” by Lucy H. Hooper, and by Mrs. E. L. 
Cushing. It gives 



Ahead of all others. These plates are engraved on steel, twice the usual size, and are unequalled 
for beauty. Tliey will he superbly colored. Also, household and other receipts; and articles on 
everything interesting to ladies, viz.; the garden, home decoration, new stitches in embroidery, 
etc., etc. 

TERMS (Always in Advance) $2.00 A YEAR. 

^^UNPARALLELED OFFERS TO CLUBS.-=©a 


With a copy of the premium picture (20 x 1 6) a costly steel engraving, 
“Hush, Don’t Wake Them,” or a Handsome Photograph Album, 
gilt, to the person getting up the club. 

With an extra copy of the Magazine for 1882, as a premium, to the 
person getting up the club. 

With both an extra copy of the Magazine for 1882, and the premium 
picture, or Photograph Album, to the person getting up the club. 

FQB LABQEU CLUEB BTILL QEEAT'EE INDUGEMENTB i 

Address, post-paid, 

CHARLES J. PETERSON, 

306 Chestnut Street, Pliiladelpbia, Pa* 
J^^Specimens sent gratis, if written for, to get up clubs with. 


2 Copies for S.3..'>0 

3 “ “ 4.50 

4 Copies for ®i6.50 
6 “ “ 0.00 


6 Copies for S>8.00 

7 “ “ 10.50 


HELEiy’S BABIES. 

WITXI 

Some accounts of their ways innocent, crafty, angelic, impish, witching 
and repulsive. Also, a partial record of their actions 
during ten days of their existence. 

BY JOHN HABBERTON. 

With an Illustrated Cover, with Portraits of Budge and Toddie. 


Helen's Babies" is famous. It contains more merriment than any other book ex- 
tant, and at the same time is zvonderfully interesting. A masterpiece in every sense 
of the word, it awakens intense admiration while it produces hearty latighter. As a 
picture of child-life it is nature itself, and it could not well be otherwise, for John Hab- 
berton, its author, made his own children sit for the portraits of Btidge and Toddie, 
the refreshingly droll little heroes. The tone of the charming volume is healthful and 
vigorous, while all the incidents are bright and telling. Budge and Toddie, “ the best 
children in the world," are mischief incarnate. They are consigned to the care of their 
Uncle Harry while their parents spend a fortnight with a friend, and at once the fun 
begins. The boys demand stories, and, when their uncle favors them zvith a biblical 
narrative, they correctdiim and tell him he doesn't know anything about Jonah and 
Noah and the Ark. Toddie is fearfully persistent, and, zvhen denied anything, has a 
way of bursting into such a storm of tears that his wish is instantly granted. He wants 
“ to shee the zvheels of his uncle's watch go wound," and has a terrible craving for candy, 
zvhile he echoes all his brother's words, and is always getting into some difficulty or 
other. Budge is inquisitive and perplexing. He interprets Toddie' s picturesque baby 
talk, and is ever ready for a frolic. ’ The children cause their uncle no end of worri- 
ment. Budge has a goat and a carriage to which the animal is harnessed. 
In this vehicle he jneets with frequent mishaps. I he boys will besmear their gar- 
ments with mud, and their adventurous dispositions occasionally lead them into 
danger. To amuse them and keep them in order, their uncle sings them camp-meeting 
hymns aztd impersonates in turn bears, lions, zebras, elephants, dogs and cats. 'Toddie 
has a favorite song, which he invariably demands when he gets htirt, and zvhich exer- 
cises a peculiarly soothing influence tipon him. But though veritable imps, the boys are 
charming little fellows, and it is utterly impossible not to love them. I'hey are devout 
after their ozvn peculiar fashion, and insist upon saying prayers, some of zvhich are in- 
describably comical. Altogether, ^'Helen's Babies" is one of the most captivating sto- 
ries in existence, the courtship of Uncle Harry and Miss Mayton lendmg it variety and 
romance. No one can fail to be delighted with it, whether married or single, old or 
young, and all who read it will certainly enjoy a series of hearty laughs. Budge and 
Toddie are capital creations and excellent types of American boyhood. They will 
remain in the memory forever, for Helen's Babies" can never be forgotten. 


Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.00. 


^^^Hlelen's Babies" zvill be found for sale by all Booksellers and N'ews Agents, 
on all Railroad Trams, and at all News Stands, or copies of it will be sent to any one, 
to any place, at once, per mail, post-paid, on re77iitting the price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 






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